Old Growth

There, right there

on the living room floor

lays the last of an

old growth forest.


Hemlock, military- tight straight grain

that never again will smell

the rain, the hungry draped mosses,

the first sun of summer solstice.


Even horizontal with death,

this wood listens, still misses the

flowery haze of

bird song.


J. Pratt-Walter


One thought on “Old Growth

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *