Thursday, January 31, 2013

Arboreal

Arboreal

In this space, there could be
any of infinity creatures,

including nothing, which
actually means oxygen,

dirt, pollen, light. Instead,
this pine, fuzzed green along

the bark, mossy as a sloth.
In every life, an exchange,

we get more of one thing
only for less of another,

slowness and focus here
in the forest, elsewhere,

fire and hunger. You were
one second old once, for

only one second, Happy
Moment You Were Born
,

each one is a step away
from the world-before-you

and toward the world-you-
helped-make. Happy birthday

to you
, the song rolls through
these pines like steady rain.

4 comments

  1. I esp. like "mossy as a sloth,"

    along with

    slowness and focus here
    in the forest, elsewhere,

    fire and hunger. You were
    one second old once . . .

    ReplyDelete
  2. This one is exceptional, Hannah, even amongst such a run of fine poems. Within your customary economical, uncluttered space, you capture so powerfully that counterpoint of tree-time and human-time.

    ReplyDelete

The Storialist. All rights reserved. © Maira Gall.