by Lana Hechtman Ayers

Rooted to this place
since air loosed disease,
I have learned to listen
to the trees,
how their voices
chorus ancient experience
of ceaseless passing—
            nothing remains
            but sun & other stars,
            even endless rains
           blow off into blue.

Trees teach to reach
beyond reach
despite scars of burl,
broken limb.
Preach to bend
whenever possible,
keep on growing.
Trees know all human
crumbling leaves behind
what is true—
            this breath,
            the next,
            each one new.

Lana Hechtman Ayers’ poems have appeared in RattleEscape Into LifeVerse Daily, and The Poet’s Café, as well as in her nine published collections. She manages three small presses on the Oregon coast in a town of more cows than people. Liz Baron is an artist and restaurateur who lives in Texas by way of New York City. She and her husband, Jim, founded, own and operate four Mexican-Southwestern restaurants. She got her Bachelor of Fine Art from Pratt Institute but stopped painting when restaurant work and family life consumed most of her time. She is grateful to the online art classes of Sketchbook Skool that helped her regain the joy of a regular art practice

One thought on “Chlorophylled

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