Tawny, crisp, leaves ranked in a pile,
Of all my trees, this oak is my favorite.
When I look at it, I have to smile,
Every fall, its leaves turn gold, I savor it.
As time passes, they turn tawny brown,
The acorns are young, smooth and petite.
And one by one, they fall to the ground,
A tasty treat for greedy squirrels to eat.
An obscure scale has smitten my tree alas!
I am forlorn ,for the scale is hard to treat.
Treatments have to be given if the tree is to last,
And those angry squirrels will have nothing to eat!
But forget the squirrels, for my tree it does suffer!
For the scales suck the nutrients with profusion.
I could cover it with ladybugs one after another,
It’s a difficult condition and a nasty intrusion!
So i feed it and treat it in hopes it will survive,
I watch it for poor overwhelming infestation,
Because I want nothing more than for my tree to stay alive,
I’m under the gun and filled with indignation.
For if I can’t save my precious tree, my oak so dear,
It will die very slowly from this horrible obscure scale.
I shall miss it forever year after heartbreaking year,
And where it used to reside, the hillside will be forever pale.