Lightning curls around the trunk of Old Tree.
Sap curdles close to the chestnut heart—
Knots and joints twist with electricity in the night air.
The strike retreats to the whirling sky,
powerless against charred black clouds
reeling it in.
Blackened skin peels away
revealing bright Green underneath . . .
Roots shiver into earth.
Quiet night, last whisper of storm fades.
Lightning, ashamed of what it's done,
Ghosts into death–blind, silent.
Old Tree sends its sap to sing in the calm
After the torment.
About the Author: Taiko Haessler is a doctoral student in Spanish and Portuguese Literature and Language at the University of Colorado. Follow her blog Band of Wild Petticoats for her eclectic posts on art and literature.
Copyright © 2006 by Taiko Haessler. The poem may not be reproduced in any form without the author’s express written permission.