Two Trees Down

The two trees at the very
end of my walk where I turn around
have fallen from last week’s vicious wind
the wind we feared might rip off

my darling’s brand-new roof but instead
slammed these two to the
sodden earth, the yet living lying
beside the long dead partner

branches intertwined as though
the living unable to let go
of the dead in one long last
grasping embrace.

How many straight-line winds
they must have weathered together
how many seasons of leaves budding,
seedlings loosed upon summer breezes

the riotous colors, the inevitable fall of leaves
they must have shared, limbs so long
trembling side by side, and now
it has come to this.

Yet before I walk on I see that the living
has thirsty feasting roots still
plunging into the rich dark loam of earth

with tiny leaves bursting forth
from multitudes of singing buds
a hosannah of life supported by death
down but not yet done

which is how I hope
the woman I love will be
embraced by memories of me
when I at last fall old and gasping
in Death’s final blow.