David Chadwick

A poem for November 2020

Sentinel

Old orangutan doesn’t understand

The things that he can hear and see

High up in a skinny, bending tree

He holds on with one strong hand

And waves angrily with the other

Hear his ragged, sorrowful calls

Crying as one giant tree falls

And then another and another

 

Swinging and swaying

Like a flag in the wind

As his forest home

Crashes around him

This old sentinel

Alone on the last limb