Dark-eyed Junco (A Bird Call)
Redwoods grow up in shoots, from burls, from trees that have fallen
sing only in low tones
sort sea shells from tea cups
my father’s planning his funeral
looking up how much it will cost
Maya says, good
I say, but he thinks he’s going to die
she says, he is going to die
a collector of sand dollars, a writer of paper letters my pile will not pile up
these shoots are second-growth trees
the old ones were taken down
when it was unimaginable that we would ever run out
when the forest was a vast, deep force
a place you could walk into
and not make it back
bird call, what say you?
keep singing
and that crazy lady will put out her seeds
keep singing and the clouds will break
keep singing so I can find you
daylight will show me your hiding places
they are not ponderosa, not jefferson pine, they are redwoods
but by then, you’ll be gone
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