|Apr/May 2011 Poetry|
Photo by Leeca Desforges
Cutting Down the Back Yard Trees
The four trees that snagged, then passed
the moon at night from one to another,
have been cut down.
Wild clematises climb
towards the sun where once
only moss and ground cover crawled.
The sun's warm hands lift the faces
of anemones and day lilies.
Why did we let these scowling pines
dominate our lot for so long?
Was privacy so valuable? Were we
protecting the rare snail?
Was it laziness? Or was it a love
of winds tossing in high limbs?
Was it the roar of the Pacific
that we heard in them that we loved?
Was it the small perspective
that we never knew we missed?
Were we too impressed with grandeur?
Who knew the hills were ablaze
with the blue sparks of wild