Today we brought a bay tree to the ground,
A mighty tree that surged towards the sky
As if no pleasure on this earth were found
Save in the striving from its roots to fly.

This tree that from a tiny leaf had grown,
Hand-planted by a child, a mother now,
Had marked the passing years and stood alone
Protecting smaller plants from sun and snow.

Custodian of the light, dispensing shade
That grew oppressive as the sun withdrew,
This tree crashed down with branches stripped and flayed,
Mingling its leaves with rosemary and rue.

The light plays in the garden now – and yet
The flower beds are seeded with regret.