Old Growth

Stripped lichen-bark
reveals the inner layer,
normally hidden
 
from view: a ragged, scarlet
core, surrounded by
almond flesh (smooth and
 
glistening with rainfall);
after which, we begin a new
separation of limbs,
 
entwine branches to merge
a former wholeness  
with evocations of another
 
season: a dampness
of maple-leaves drowning
the air, suggests
 
apple trees, at harvest;
but the advisory passes
sooner than memory,
 
while a blue-hooded
grackle moves, in declining
afternoon, through
 
fresh, temporary puddles
without fuss; gawking
less than neighbors, who

hover (as mosquitoes,  
or black flies do) around, like
wind-roused seeds.