Mind the Forest

All doom is slow and inevitable

in the forest mind, the monoecious trees march

out in all directions, each season

the forest advances, each season green

assumes, further, further. How do I

grow, how do I keep green? Corvids

 

lord over the canopy, doing the forest’s bidding

and minding trees of worm

and mite. Crows high and tall, jays

along the mid-canopy, always

calling, their calls a kind of laughter

dashing between the viney wood

and the vacant lot topped with a cherry

tree flowering. Already some blooms have thrown down

their bouquets. Jays go blue for another. King

or queen? All alike and alike, the band

of color on color, blue and black, exchanging acorns, exchanging

laughter, dropping a forest child here

and there along wooded ways. A tree

 

is a window. Through it, the question carries

with the wind, with the wind

carries the laughter, the cherry heather, wondrous

same of same, the laughter. Growing. A kind

of hope. Can I live

in its steeple? How can I not wish

to climb, to see

what I can see?


Also by Cassandra Whitaker

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