Redwood, horizontal
Tony Press
Where does the fallen tree go,
and why? Is it driven away,
branded like Hester?
Perhaps it takes 80 to Tahoe
then angles north
to reside
beside
its sister,
Fallen Leaf Lake.
And when the tree is fallin’, fallin’,
do we keep callin’, callin’ it back again,
or do the echoes of the Beatles
sadden us this time –
the jolting news
of John Lennon
shot and killed –
which I learned
as I sat alone
watching a dumb football game
my kids already asleep
Forty years ago.
Fallen trees.
Felled giants.
Faded love.
Where do they go?
Into our hearts.
If we let them.
