Patrina's "Tree Cycle" tells the life of a tree in twelve counts, and the numbers do the work of time. Each group of three moves the tree forward: a seed sprouts, branches and sticks appear, fruit arrives, and then, abruptly, the tree is cut down and turned into a couple of shelves. The counting feels like a nursery rhyme, which makes the sudden ending land harder.
The speaker doesn't say outright how they feel, but the tone seems matter-of-fact, maybe a little wry. The first three stages are told with simple, cheerful rhymes, so the last line comes as a small shock. "Now it's a couple of shelves" is almost casual, as if this were the natural, even ordinary, outcome.
The mood is playful on the surface and quietly sobering underneath. The poem seems to nudge us to think about how quickly growth becomes use, and how a living thing can end up as furniture.