Timbered
By Emily Rosko
Round and round they go
with a ribbon and garlanded
flowers in hand.
The bark won't unravel,
the tree spells solidness—we
grand, oaken, elmed selves
of the ancients. Our pith
is clean. There's no pining
away for tomorrow, we are
in current respiration,
we move with the wind.
Singular, we are
stunning. In horde,
we are dense, differing
dream. The autumnal
flashiness these days
is drought-determined.
We barely go beyond
the red. Our hollows
are never vacant. We live
to board; we take
the ax. Marbled inside
the original stem. We were
born we don't know when.
Copyright Credit: Emily Rosko, "Timbered" from Prop Rockery. Copyright © 2012 by Emily Rosko. Reprinted by permission of University of Akron Press.
Source: Prop Rockery (University of Akron Press, 2012)