I’m always sad when when I pass these enormous uprooted trees, when upright beauty succombs to a season’s relentless storm. But as God would have it, one death can be the salvation of many, and if you look hard in the shadows of these topplings, new life is finding a home. Happy Easter.
Windthrow
We paddle our grief
past
and sigh at the savagery
of tree toppling
the uproot
from primordial soil
cloud blather,
breeze brush
perpetual rinse
and reflection
rings can’t count
such loss—
when a ruthless gust
razes the oak’s boast
in its cradled nest,
uttered leaves, branch-dance
the peak of gallantry
rend in the unearthing
of lattice, when
brokenness mines
a root labyrinthe
uncloaked
as miry temple
whose beneath
teems with the living,
the vulnerable—
when it forgets
its reflection
in its plunge
to humble sanctum—
as resurrected umbra,
life for the fallen.
Hate losing a good shade tree.
I love those trees. And I love the detail and intricate language and imagery of this