The Track of a Storm
grieve for the twelve trees we lost last night,
of our community, old friends
confidants dismembered in our sight,
of their crowns by the unruly winds.
were no baskets to receive their heads,
women knitting by the guillotines,
two sleepers rousted from their beds
fusillades of hailstones on the screens.
nest shattered, her battered hatchlings drowned,
stunned and silent junko watches me
limbs from corpses of the downed,
the understory of debris
supple saplings which survived the blast
claim to light and liberty at last.
The Deed of Gift, Story Line Press,
1998. Reprinted by permission of the author and
Press, Ashland, Oregon.