Lament for Doomed Ash Trees

National Poetry Month, Day 7


I've written about men cutting down the trees on our property before.  They are at it again.

It kills me.

Here is the little woods I love as it looked about four years ago.  I haven't had the heart to photograph the way it looks now, with so many stumps of trees.

 

 

 

 

so, here's my poem for the day:

 

 

 

Lament for Doomed Ash Trees

 

 

The grounds crew plans to cut them down.

I am helpless to stop them.

My heart sinks with anger and dismay.

Here, restore actually means destroy.

So in my depression, I turn to my childhood:

Loving the merry go round

riding the merry go round on the last day of school

 at the school picnic,

 Sousa music smooth and cool as a current of water

 on the evening breeze of mid June

coursing through the open pavilion.

Round and round,

 seeking to walk on the still earth when landing.

Ring a round the rosy

 the sky and the farmer in the dell

 go in and out the window

all going in circles for balance

for the inner ear which listens to the ocean of blood

 the reliable heart beat

The inner ear

which notices the sound of something small

 dropping in a distant room

a distant ocean down by the bellowing of pipes of guts,

 something clattering to the floor of my stomach,

breaking into small pieces.