Who Was It?

“Who was it, who said, now
you must speak?”

 When I touched

her rough bark

my Witness Tree,

 old mother pine,

burnt my hand.

“Speak of what

you know”

She said.

Death is on the horizon.

Humans will

ride the train

into oblivion.

This is just

the Beginning…

Murdered pine and fir

  wept by the spring.

Crows screeched. 

Old ones continue to fall.

The seed moon is full.

Thousands of Saplings

 lie supine,

dying sticks

torn away from roots

 stacked in obscenely

 neat downed bunches.

Not just here

where crystal spring

 waters

run down a

 mountain to 

quench thirst,

 or to heal,

 but Everywhere.

All trees –

 Living Beings,

 are consigned

to death by

 the Great Machine

of human greed.

“You cannot save them.”

 She said.

(Harsh words,

 accompanied by 

    unspeakable visions,

made it impossible

to turn away from

this year’s equinox turning).

Part 2

If Only For Now…

Trees blown down

 by winter storms

 transform with the

Gift of spring rains –

if only they would come.

Ladies in waiting,

 broken limbs are patient

dreaming of hungry

  bugs and bears.

Mycelial threads

are slow, rising

to the surface.

Break down

 of cellulose

is still ahead.

Only with the rains

will slain

and dying

 trees   

become

 a nursery

rich in nutrients,

supporting

acorns.

seedlings,

mosses,

lichens,

the grist

of life –

if only

for now.

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