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.
pure lovely.
ReplyDeleteI esp. like "mossy as a sloth,"
ReplyDeletealong with
slowness and focus here
in the forest, elsewhere,
fire and hunger. You were
one second old once . . .
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.
ReplyDeleteA deeply felt poem..
ReplyDelete