WHERE LEAVES FALL
 

Deciduous on this side of the road,
Rushing wind stirs trees, 
Dismounts orange, red and amber foliage.
Birches and maples, elms and sycamores 
Disperse in the breeze
Aroma of incense and fireworks.
Burning day and night
Intense embers, exploding brilliant thoughts… 
Descending, galaxy rustles to earth.
Snow snuffs wicks of light.

Frosty candle trunks pause for winter,
Limbs turn pale and cold.
Although dormant dreams are a vivid palette 
Awaiting the thaw to sprout licking flames
Of mosaic gold.
The road divides the forest into camps.
I choose where leaves fall.
Resurrection after resurrection,
I trust in the promise of verve to come,
Not to die at all.

Radiata is on the other side,
A darkening doom.
Monoculture behind a wire fence
Pine division is naive of seasons; 
Perpetual gloom.
Tedium of greenness set in a square.
Statutes circumscribe.
Reserved, knowing they will be sacrificed.
Knowing they will die, and die only once,
A foreboding tribe. 

Pitiless chainsaws hack down plantation.
Calmly take the blade,
Butchered carcasses piled on logging trucks 
Depart the mountain for the shark-toothed mills. 
Ready to be made 
Flesh sliced into beams, rafters, struts, noggins, 
Tables, chairs and beds.
Whittled further into little match sticks. 
Flash of fervor is too late, quickly yield
Dead smoldering heads.


Frank Corso