Lives of Tree
Rob Schlegel

The northern saga eyes forest

In seeds. Timbers


Spinning water, the pond’s surface

And oil. The hill is dark


With crickets

Glass bottles keep


When soil emits ink

And axle and thunder stalls


The harvest; mutes the summer

And violets. Down


The tree’s creased bark

Lightning starts a seam of heat


Until curtains of flame fabric

The branches as flames and


The sound of flames shape the trees

Burning their first farewell.