i like to imagine
the community of trees,
passing along the news
on autumn’s heavy breaths -
We’ve lost another good one-
as the roots of the fallen
clutch and claw
at the newfound air,
the dirt confused
in the Uprising.
an unseen Conductor raises the baton,
cueing the winds to begin their crescendo
in the sweet spaces of this Requiem.
the mourning and prayer songs begin,
branches reach, repining,
signifying to an unconcerned sky,
as the trees lean on
one another,
singing and shrieking their loss.
--Whitney Gray
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