They have more courage than anyone I know
They constantly sacrifice their lives
So one can have wood, homes, floors, fences,
And so many more things
They never once cry or even scream
Though it hurts them, they keep their vows of silence
They give us oxygen freely
Everyday, every minute, every hour
Each day, each breath you take
It is thanks to them,
And yet they never blame you,
Nor say a harsh word
They never judge you or hold a grudge against you
Even though it's their life you have taken
Could you give up your life, so willingly?
Never cry, never utter a word, or hate anybody?
Could you give oxygen to everyone 24/7?
AND give up your life, even though
You're just as helpful living as you are dead?
If not, then those same trees that have laid down their lives
For the very chair you're sitting on, for the very home you live in
Are the best of God's creation amongst us
Let us always try to respect them
GOD BLESS THEM & LONG LIVE THE TREES!

*~Marian~

it starts to grow cold
night unwraps stars
and amber moons,
the stream sings
with its silver-throated joys
and dreams of the skies
with their beautiful
dark
sorrows.

mid-air toward the icy Catskill eddies
frozen once  and once again--
bridge-jump skyward watchers--
plunge of marrow tears.

you are there.  simulacrum ping
-pong pop on carpet rise
another consciousness i've known
the winking soul recognitive
of grin, of inner whispered act
we finish lineless, applause of ancients drone
on trio sum in low man's song,
on kitchen counter edges,
finger tests and tested trusts,
nail clips clipping on dehiscing ****--
the party. the porch. the project truth of beauty's virtue shown--
the drunken blood a lover
swirled on wet on wet undone.

your attic pillow-talk sobriety
of Green Hole fun
to echo four years, six and seventeen
the age unknown, we shared umbrella sanctity of family home:
raindrops trump the timeless wallstreet horns,
a zero sky ungains the settled hue of mind,
each thought the same, copula to void
in mythic forms we metaphor the plenum won

building dwelling-thinking sung,
the cardiac in tones--
lucid union slowing in the swirling sun--
the eddies stop again, sewn in Catskill frost..
the love we felt alive, in mid-air jump,
in Berto's cheer
we match the water's silent thrum

A star is not a cold rock
a dulled reflective face,
like glazed glass.

It burns when your eyes are closed
it devours itself
while jagged rocks pirouette
rugged rings around the fire.

Variegated spheres swirl
in the cosmic whirlwinds,
as waves radiate from a distance,
bathing all in their path in its brilliance.

I don't know why worlds plummet
like stones from the sky.

I don't know why worlds must die
before a child can reach the summit.

This sick trip they drag you into
from the wet warm of the womb
is not living, but just a tomb,
a sealed and silent little room,
a fleeting glimpse at everything.

All I know is, a star is not a rock.
And death does not discriminate.

A reticent fox slinks by beneath
the trees

that still have leaves
conversing for now

the change in colors
sleeps still, unannounced

the rain smells of ploughed earth
& freshly hung-out clouds

& wellington boots
Autumn's child cries it's first word

& inside a low-lit pub
a crisp old cider's poured

September's dreams
fermenting

Thirsty, a parched pale yellow
this milkweed, dandelion field
dried silky seeds blowing wild
hot cracking leaves
lightning trees afire
forests and burning meadows
with eyes that sting
I can but see, spectrally
the smokey sun
breathe a deathly air
that chokes the lungs
creatures gasp and run
in moments ever dire
they flee frightfully
amid falling trees
of fire.