Lives of Tree
Rob Schlegel

The northern saga eyes forest

In seeds. Timbers

 

Spinning water, the pond’s surface

And oil. The hill is dark

 

With crickets

Glass bottles keep

 

When soil emits ink

And axle and thunder stalls

 

The harvest; mutes the summer

And violets. Down

 

The tree’s creased bark

Lightning starts a seam of heat

 

Until curtains of flame fabric

The branches as flames and

 

The sound of flames shape the trees

Burning their first farewell.