Kaddish for a Lemon Tree

When we took out the dying orange,
Redoing the entire yard, and refiguring
Now in one swoop, the cheerful bright
Lemon tree was cut away too. 

Its fruit, to be fair, was only fair,
Plenty of meat, but  rather bland,
Not tasty, not too sour, not 
Sufficiently enticing for a summertime

Beverage.  But still it was our 
Large backyard lemon, haphazardly
Prune over the decades, rarely climbed
But she seemed hardy, although,

When cut, we saw that rot had
Set in.  That fact did not
Diminish the  small anguish of
The tree’s coming absence.  It was 

A fair tree, and as like to a member
Of the family that a tree could be,
Overlooking calm breakfasts,
And backyard squabbles, and

The kids squeaking, squealing, 
Squaring their sights as they 
Entered adolescent squalls, then
Squeezing quickly into 

Maturity. The lemon, past its
Maturity, came down. Farewell,
Tree, herein is my kaddish for you:
God made the tree and the man.
Each served the other as best as each
Could, until end time came. 
Praised be the name of the Lord.