Saturday, January 23, 2016


It is more painful than death,
the death of someone that still breathes the mountains’ breath.
Why can’t we stay as roots of the Aspens do---interlocking
not just the will to survive, but the will to thrive
through the sun-beating summer,
the always fatal fall, isolating winter, succulent spring?

Let us stand as one.
Let us not demand dominion one over the other.
Or else, let the sun’s blades sweep, slice, dice---
fillet our intertwined roots,
slow bake them to
feed the new baby Aspens.