Bushwhacker, the very sound curls my lip.
Sneers are of little use, but going to war
Speeds the process, could halt hateful ruin.
Listen to my tale tell of hate and victory.  

Destruction planned for early morning
Before I could be standing guard, armed.                          
Oh, not with rifle or less, with a cell phone
Direct to congressional super gods, so they 
thought. both congressmen and tree killers.

With screech and threat, I stood in front
of a baby American Chestnut, so rare, the
Feds even have a forest protection clause.
County dared to park whacker monster’s
Giant carcass on a corner of my farm.  

Some things are so rare, so precious God
Expects us to lay down timid thought and fight.
So fight I did. The operator was told impolitely,
With no kindness about his lineage and his notion,
My tree was not subject to his whacker motion.  

Not today, not tomorrow, not ever, I say.
He, huge surprise, listened! He up and left.
Best I know that man and machine never
Has been known to come back Colville way.  

Chestnuts may never rise again, disease
Being powerful as it is. This one still lives
Don’t ask me why, protection, care maybe.
It falls on me to work and save one tree.