The Ghost of the Wollemi Pine

In a canyon deep where shadows sleep,
The Wollemi hides, where few eyes seek.
Silent sentinel of an ancient time,
Its needles whisper a forgotten rhyme.

Once, it thrived in a forest's glow,
Before the age of man and snow.
Now it clings to life, so frail,
As winds of change, like wolves, assail.

A thousand years in each rough bark,
A secret kept in the forest dark.
The earth, once lush, now cracked and dry,
And still it reaches toward the sky.

Yet danger looms in fire's breath,
A slow march toward a quiet death.
But can we turn the tide, restore?
Or will the Wollemi be no more?

I wonder, will the world recall
The tree that stood, defying all?
Or will it fade, like morning mist,
A ghost that few will know exists.