Large sea turtles and some whales
will outlive us, water a manifestation of wind in
another dimension.
I had to use the shovel to hack at the wood, had to grab
a hatchet, down deep in the hole. The oak pitched around
like a ship’s mast, or I was no longer alive; perhaps I was yet
to be
all over again, though I kept recalling your name. The verdurous roots.
Copyright @ 2014 by David Dodd Lee. Used with permission of the author. This poem appeared in Poem-a-Day on July 16, 2014.