Preserved in Death

spiraltreebared and slashed
preserved in death.
there he stands
twelve tall.
killed in a flash
to be saved
for an age.

king of the stumps,
and a limbless tree.
he once took root so
he might be
stripped and charred
striped and marred
a spiraling spire
of twisted grain
elevated to stand
under strain
humbly
for a ten-decade reign.

scattered through woods
are sainted trees,
epitaphs,
their names engraved
on binded leaves.
in ashen stumps
their bodies saved
when rush of wind
and tongues of fire
enlightened them
engulfed, inspired.

they wait
asleep
they pine
they pray
for a day
when they
will wake,
will shine.

the fire
that killed him
saved them
purified them
petrified them
hardened them
immortalized them

agony:
a blaze of pain.
irony:
eternal gain.

forbears and offsprigs
who died of old age,
died not in the blaze:
they fell naturally,
crashed gracefully:
but they are decayed,
returned to the dust
consumed by the earth
in which they lay

to rot.

but not

those baptized in fire
who stood their ground
to bow their crowns

not those lost
to flame inflictors

the fire
that killed him
saved them
purified them
petrified them
hardened them
immortalized them

in his loss
they became victors.

bared and slashed
preserved in death.
there he stands
twelve tall.
killed in a flash
to save
an age.

 

Published in Inkwell Spring 2017 Bethany Lutheran College

Haiku from a Deer Stand

Though it ended with no venison in the freezer, the weekend was not lost. Two amazing days in Creation are medicine for any soul. While I sat awaiting my quarry, I filled my notebook with the inspirations and the experience of basking in God’s handiwork– even if man did interrupt the tranquility with distant traffic noise and low-flying planes. And so… a few haikus from a tree stand:

My body shivers.
I see my breath in brisk air.
Sun’s rising warms me.

A nuthatch of Payne’s,IMG_3126
enters his cozy knot hole.
Then re-emerges.

three pink ribbons dance
tied to small trees marking lines
that men imagine

Breaking winter grays:
green moss, lichens sage and gold.
The trees are still dressed.

Five clean, white birches
stand neatly in a straight row.
One leans in to kiss.

I hear ‘swish’ above.
look to see, just over trees,
an eagle fly low

IMG_3127a blue jay clamors.
he leaps branch to branch squawking
oddly musical

A lonely, charred stump
recalls a forest fire
a century past.

squir’l scampers through leaves.
stops to devour a feast:
a cupcake I tossed

Long strings of black pearls
adorn the tall, gray lady
with green, bristled hair

IMG_3128

I came for the deer
but now I’m hunting for words
to write my haiku.

among the drab hues
a sudden flash of azure
wings flourishing white

invisible thread
catches the sun, glints silver
and then disappears

Tree shadows lengthen
reaching to end a short day
and silence the woods.