To watch the evergreens felled
amid the terrible sound of saw
is today’s definition of sorrow.
Even the ropes mourn, coiling their misery
around a neighboring maple,
pulling the hapless pines earthward.
–excerpt from “The Pines” in A Light Dusting of Breath by Donna Pucciani (virtual artists collective/purple flag, 2015). First published in Dream Catcher.