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by Jonathan K. Rice


I run my hand
over the carved trunk
of a beech tree
 
my palm upon initials
within a jagged heart
 
I assume a young lover
who meant well
 
who wanted to
proclaim his love
 
who wanted it to last
at least scarred
in this forest
 
for all to see
from this trail
 
I explain to the tree,
the forest, the earth
that sustains them
 
that humans can’t
help themselves
 
we were taught
to subdue the earth
so some of us
take it to extremes
 
I apologize
 
quiet overtakes the woods,
the wind, the birds
even the insects 
 
for a moment
stillness
a silent reply
 
 

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