White Ash Goes Up at a Touch
By Todd Boss
while the black oak
takes coaxing.
That popping and
whistling? Yellow
birch and red pine.
Difference
might for now define,
but soon the whole
church is chanting
at the same time,
flame splashing
bright from the dirty
bucket of the earthly,
roaring likeness
and only likeness
into the bottomless
cool of the night . . .
Source: Poetry (December 2007)