Monday, June 23, 2014

sacrifice

My heart told me to strike the nail into my palm and thus impale my hand onto the center of the freshly severed stump.

The poplar was a century tall until my word command it fall and flop into the field that rings the cemetery rocks and things that once were precious to the ones who left stacked stones, iron tools and bones.

But my head decided, “No. This psychotic guilt shall go into the pocket brain abode that keeps such danger safely stowed.”

The mighty trees that used to be have been blown to the ground for me to rake and gouge, and profit take from the resulting mess I make.

But now, the Logger, he must have a sweeter cause to harvest horizontal logs and so I give him several of these tall and healthy mighty trees.

(It seems he cannot understand the value placed upon the land that does not register in cash but an aesthetic beauty stash.)

But I, in haste to heal the land, impatient to let Nature’s hand have years to dampen wood to dirt, let violent ripping of the saws and crushing tires and dragger jaws chew the life from leaf loam litter to expose the bare and bitter under-layers of lifeless soils.

The hammer falls. 

My heart recoils.

Monday, January 20, 2014

salvage

massive trees are strewn about
the twisted wood
and now I doubt
my motives
in the
plan I
made
to have
the
fallen
trees
relayed
from the
old sod
that holds
their roots
to trucks and saws by men in boots as ruddy as their solemn faces, men who seem to see no grace in timber stands except for signs of dollars gained by clearing vines and limbs from logs of heartwood hard and split and driven miles and miles away and given to the mill for boards and pulp. 
I sign, I sigh, and cry and gulp.

Sunday, July 21, 2013

Wind

came up quick in rapid pace
and then blew down
in fractal grace
a power
so much
more
than
these
aged
mighty
many
trees
with roots
as soggy as the sod
that rice fed oxen often trod.

I thought that I might make a trail through ancient woods that would prevail in beauty deeper than my death, but now I see how Nature takes the Life from here just to remake a field of dreams that only She in random vision will let Be.

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

some of the older oaks

are still holding to their leaves.

Thursday, March 8, 2012

Caps are popping

up a bit
in between the leaves.

Friday, January 20, 2012

redundancy

In all,
the days have gone so fast
that I did not
could not
get past the pile of duties
that I say
kept me from here
until this day.

Friday, January 21, 2011

winter

keeps a steady pace
of snow and ice and
wind burned face.

I swear they said
the other day that
cold this year
would stay away.