Douglas Fir, Falling
John Calderazzo
Surely,
Somebody must hear one now & then,
A big tree falling on its own.
So why not me,
Hiking in the submarine green
Along Panther Creek among the Douglas firs,
Their trunks as wide as my outflung arms,
Swaying wind in the rivering crowns
Almost drowning the steady
Breeze of creek water...
I just hear, behind the tangled wall
Across Panther Creek,
The building fury
Of the tree's descent,
Leaf & branch storms set loose
In the bird-panicked, lichen-torn air.
Swirling trunk dust, slammed
With earth, explodes
From the forest.
The ground quakes, the tree bounces
Once, cracks in three places.
Then everything seems to
Stop--creek water, canopy wind,
Rasping drizzle of needle litter
& shredded bark,
Even my own breath:
All of it on hold
As if to honor the tall life
Of this forest king,
Which has temporarily fallen back
Into the grand jumble of things.
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