embedded hulk of weathered megatrunk
on the beach, anchored
in some forgotten massive storm
must be doug fir, or cedar — big wood
i count 845 rings
remaining
there were more
— more than ten lifetimes
high tides slap inanely against its base
a million gulls have cruised past, a billion salmon
and we have sawed and hacked and picnicked
and perhaps felled it, built with its other parts
i nestle into its cut
the rings etched, warm
i move into its depth, length
like spring sap
it bears no grudge
and holds patience
almost like a rock
*Copyright 2010 by Luther Allen. This poem appears in The View from Lummi Island.
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Photo of Jack’s Beach
other mind press 