Janet Belding

Graveyard of Trees


But why of all trees
The ironwoods?
Toppled by weather, encouraged by age and disease,
crosshatching a pit full of leaves.
balance beams for the adventurous.
Some have just rotted in place as if kneeling,
Some have, for all you know, vaporized,
disguised as rounded edges of a sleeping figure,
the innards of the tree flaking into red chips the color of mahogany
This is the most visible sign of dust to dust
This is how trees bury their dead.




Janet Belding lives and writes on Cape Cod, which has been her home for many years. She has been published in Field Guide Poetry Magazine, and Sky Island Journal.