TREES DYING IN ICE

  

In the photo the girl is taking a picture

An old-fashioned camera held to her eye

And all about her a fairyland of crystal;

Trees, bushes, buildings outlined

Even in black and white, everything

Shimmers in the sunlight, everything

Glimmers and sparkles like crystal

It is only after careful examination

That the eye registers the awkward

Un-natural angle of tree-branches

And whole rows or trees lying down

As if shot by firing squads and all of them

Iced over thickly until it is impossible to tell

Where one stops and another begins

The ice-storm came in the dark of night

With the winds high, howling wildly

And sleet sheeting down in copious amounts

The ice built up, layering the wood

Until its groans could be heard even

Over the storm’s cacophony – wood dying

Groans and moans deeply but in the end

Booms as loud as thunder when the ice

Takes its life – whether amputating limb

By large limb, or going right to the heart

And chopping it down at the trunk

Ultimately, the sound so like that of a rifle

Report ends with old growth forest being

Brought to its knees and no matter

How beautifully the storm dresses the result

The damage is fatal and irreparable