STUMPED

If you're feeling down in the dumps,

Consider the lowly, dying stumps;

Life for them seems so past tense,

But here’s a word in their defense:

Stumps contain a world of mystery,

Chapters full of forest history,

Protection for a hidden nest,

The perfect place to sit and rest.

Sculptures scattered on the hill,

Breaking down, they’re useful still;

Mulch to feed anemones,

Violets, and seedling trees.

Home to lichen, moss, and bug;

Holding soil all nice and snug;

Carbon storer, humus maker,

Belching nitrogen by the acre.

Useful even though succumbing,

Hollowed out just right for drumming;

Colonized by many beasts,

As trees break down, their gifts increase.

Graceful castles in the forest,

You are nurturer and florist.

Don't remove a fallen tree!
It's at work,
Please let it be.