The pine trees Became carnage Battered by the wind Under the weight of the spring snow Foundation weakened by the soft ground beneath They lie at roadside Pilons showing work had been begun Dedicated teams Working day into night Clearing the roads Allowing traffic to move Piles of broken branches Sawed off trunks Awaiting their sentence After succumbing to the storm They fell without respect For the surface below The waters of the dam Gathered whole trees in their space Pine needles clinging to the branches The trunk fractured Fresh edges of wood visible now The tree lies helplessly Upon the waters of the lake Hugging the edge Will it wander And be pulled over the spillway Where might it travel? What might it become?
Beside the road The earth is pulled up A ball of roots exposed Expanding out beyond the trunk Wider than two tall people Hand in hand Stretched across the earthen span The tree’s body Has been severed To allow passage over the road Across from the fallen member of the roadside forest Lies a pile of smaller branches Green needles intact Likely unaware There will be no more nourishment Sap will dry up But this stack of branches Destined for their demise Gives a scent of Christmas to the air How is it my heart Is trilling with childlike delight In the face of death? Might it be the Good Friday Heralding resurrection to come?
Crumbs for the Journey 