Tuesday, January 16, 2024

The Dying One Lives While the Living One Dies



 

The Calm After the Second Storm


The dark laid down its precedent

on a Tuesday night.

It allowed me to fill the oil lanterns

and finish knitting a project

that was frosted with dust.


We had light for fifteen hours

before the East wind whipped the tree tops

for a second time in a week.

How can one sleep when the roof 

is, for certain, getting ripped off?


I've been watching the two tallest pines

at the crest of our mountain.

One has been dying, for years

its barren body naked to the 

elements.


I was certain that last night

it would meet its end

and I would wake to see its 

strong, lush, green partner standing solo.


But when the grey January skies lifted

I saw only the withered bones

of the dead pine standing alone---

not willing, yet, to send its body

back to earth.  

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