(re-post from 2 years ago)
.
South winds
(c) B. Albright 2011
push the great fir
to mortal degree,
its many arms thrashing
in dark circles,
its body twisted in deep groan.
And I would be that bird
perched white at the top –
I’d play the storm
swaying in brave arcs
without roots.
.
(c) 1995, 2013 Betty Hayes Albright
Seasonings 