The Pines

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.

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