Joyful Aspen

In the heart of the desert, ‘neath blistering sun,
Stood ancient Saguaros, two centuries spun.
Their arms reached to heavens, in silent, grand plea,
Guardians of tales, in the land of the free.

Once cradled by Earth, by warm winds they were kissed,
These giants of time, in the arid abyss.
Yet, time has been cruel, as flames took their rise,
With fevered heats, not seen in old skies.

The whispers of ages, now choked in the haze,
These age-old sentinels, met their end-days.
Once resilient to time, but not to this fire,
Of unnatural warmth, circumstances dire.

Their roots which once drank from deep wells of old,
Now parched and withered, in grounds hard and cold.
Two centuries of growth, lost to a blink,
It’s more than just plants; it makes one rethink.

The fluttering bird, the scampering hare,
All feel the anguish, the weight of despair.
For as we let temperatures soar and clouds wane,
We risk losing stories, memories, and bane.

These Saguaros, majestic, are but a sign,
Of what’s at stake, in this life’s intertwine.
For in their slow fall, they silently shout,
“Guard the climate, before all lights go out.”

For in their death, a message resounds clear,
Protect all life forms, those far and those near.
For if we don’t act, and let nature slide,
We lose more than plants; it’s our world that’s died.

Oh, heed to the call of these fallen old trees,
A plea for the Earth, the skies, and the seas.
For in saving them, it’s ourselves that we save,
From a future world, barren, silent, and grave.