by Mary Pinard, from the chapbook Refuge:

Fallen Tree

How
slow and
grand it must have
been the arc you drew
through air your whorled
branches like thinning wing bones
along the heft of your furrowed trunk    free
falling    a rending too of your old stubborn roots they
would have shivered with it all that came into view as the pond
split itself open    its rippling carrying news of you your letting go
the all of it now here    and how time passing renews your undoing into this
refuge    lush up-gushings    greenings    chirp symphonies    wriggling impatient broods
buzz-croak-swoon    a stately blue    lily pads riffling an azure mirror    and for one brief afternoon
in a troubled June    me    here    walking gently out along your long spine    generous bridge between worlds

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