he sends me trees
that yearn
he sends me their bones
thinned as if by the great effort
and their reedy mesh
like capillaries
that want
fog
he sends me trees
whose grounded brokenness
snakes blackly
through needles
that remember
spruce
he sends me a sentinel
tree
the charred figure
invested like a temporary totem
with what (and who) came before
the silhouetted
remains
also imbued with the urging
present
for the few
like him
who might be led
or find themselves
here
he sends me a forest
I might have known
©2024 Lyall Harris