Lawa-An Tree's Tragic Majesty

Must have been yesterday, dark-green against a silver sky near a craggy promontory, loomed majestic and protective, mutely reassuring, our village's most ancient lawa-an tree; its colossal trunk and roots, mighty boughs and thick crown had defied the fiercest storms, held at bay the hand of time, withstood the leaden burden of the years and aging's ennui; local legend had it that our lawa-an was more than a hundred years old, so by their own grandparents our old folks were told, an age-old secret the village treasures in its memory like gold; now, the silver sky grieves, the promontory laments, solitary; it took over a hundred years to grow that tree to such majesty, but only minutes for chainsaws to chop it down, such tragedy.