from Flagstaff to Williams last year
I passed a cluster of Aspens along the highway.
White trunks arranged in haphazard rows
carved into the paper-like bark
Jenny loves Lloyd, WR + DT, WTF.
An awkward surface for so much graffiti,
Black scars from the base to the top
One whole section was missing today
burned in last season’s fire
nothing remained but a few hollowed stumps
now acres of new grass and wildflowers.
I have these pictures so I know they existed once
chronicled in my scrap books and power points,
painted scenes in watercolor and oils,
feeble attempts to reflect real life.
How much are we like the Aspens,
stalwart individuals, scarred and standing in close proximity
separate but connected by a network of underground roots
vulnerable to disease, insects and firestorms?
Pictures by Bill
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