Firewood

Photo by Alan Rodriguez on Unsplash

For this edition, I have three poems in the Pantoum form. The final poem is free verse.

Firewood 

Before the old oak falls, for years it stands 
in soil born of leaves that worms cast out.
Birds break worms’ bodies in their beaks. 
Old branches break and fall to snowy ground.

In  soil born of leaves that worms cast out,
unable to carry the load of ice, 
old branches break and fall to snowy ground 
where birds assemble to gather ants. 

Unable to carry the load of ice, 
branches join acorns missed by squirrels, 
where birds assemble to gather ants. 
Before the old oak stands, an acorn falls. 

Branches join acorns missed by squirrels.
Birds break worms’ bodies in their beaks.
Before the old oak stands, an acorn falls. 
Before the old oak falls, for years it stands.

Previously Published in 2nd and Church, Nashville

Autumn Light

The green of summer fades to autumn brown.
Ospreys depart, and sandhill cranes arrive.
Gold and purple asters greet our eyes.
A choir of robins sings in morning mist. 

Ospreys depart as sandhill cranes arrive.
Beige coins of beech leaves filter evening light.
A choir of robins sings in morning mist 
as morning stars greet the crescent moon.

Beige coins of beech leaves filter evening light.
Red maple leaves may shiver in a breeze, 
as morning stars greet the crescent moon.
Orange pumpkins give me harvest hope. 

Red maple leaves may shiver in the breeze. 
Gold and purple asters greet my eyes.
Orange pumpkins give me harvest hope.
The green of summer fades to autumn mist.

Gibbous Moon. 

The other night, the old moon swelled toward full.
Before the rain arrived, the bone white orb 
illuminated land beneath its gaze 
and moonlight glowed as cold as scattered teeth.

Before the rain arrived, the bone white orb
was gone behind wind-driven clouds and ice
but moonlight glowed as cold as scattered teeth 
as calls of owls filled all the frozen land.

Illuminated land beneath its gaze
was gone behind wind-driven clouds and ice
as calls of owls filled all the frozen land.
The other night, the old moon swelled toward full.


Rock

In the smoky gold of mountain mist, the mellow 
autumn sun illuminates hickories gone to gold 
and the blue and gold of asters.

Water percolates to surrounding layers beneath 
nearby oaks and maples, but lichens grow on rock.
They dessicate in dry weather and wait for rain.

They appear to come back to life as they binge
on water like resurrection fern and feel no shame.
They survive the enibbling deer and fattening sandals.

The rocks appear to be forever, but lichen 
brings them down. Their acids break rocks.
If you wish to be a survivor, be like lichen.

Here is a link to an earlier prose work. It just came to mind as I looked through an old journal. It has a voiceover, so you can listen to it.