In the Shade of the Setting Son
Not at once, but gradually at my feet
random leaves, brown and brittle
carpenters diligently march in
leaving my bark somewhat non-committal
Furtively, up grow the undesirables
the weedy weeds and the pesty pests
erstwhile friends in the summer sun
the heavenly snag inviting inquests
Wounded tree under forest affliction
how to water; too little, too much
scarred by the bear claw and lightning strike
yielding to the woodpecker, chickadee and bluebird clutch
Where only warmth now lingers, the flame once fired
stands the smiling woodsman cleaning his plate
glistening against my trunk in the wink of a rising sun
a sharpened ax waits and waits
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