Close Call
By John R. Greenwood
chainsaw teeth
nipping at my neighbors feet
my fear hidden beneath leafy limb
his solid trunk
strong and straight
strong and straight
more desirable than mine
whose punky guts
sway weak like mush
his bark thick with character
mine brittle like light bulb glass
ready to shatter under an angry wind
he proclaims strength against the world
I cower in his shadow
my roots trembling in fear
his roots dancing in arrogance
how finite the distinction
between table worthy plank
or embarrassing kindling
plentiful and forever ignored
There is something in me that cries out deeply against tree-felling, so your poem has struck a chord. I guess there is something to be said for being puny if it means avoiding the chainsaws life would throw at us.
ReplyDeletePoor tree, to feel so second rate!
ReplyDeleteI think "second" rate in this case might be a good thing. "roots trembling in fear'… arrogance won't help in the end. ;)
ReplyDeleteDo not fear. No trees were harmed in the writing of this poem. 100% poetic license and imagination.
ReplyDelete