Westward, upriver from my tiny stiff hometown, 

Desiccated forest roared and cracked the summer long.

Woodsmoke musk faintly fouled the breeze.

My catch throat caught its grey taste for weeks.

It disappeared of late, an unremembered joint pain.

I witness this new October morning tick tap out a first frost.

Alone. Early at the beach to avoid tiny stiff eyes,

Inhale the chill sunshine,

I toe the marbled sandy margin of the curved bay.

Scribbled sticks mussed with rot betray the last highwater.

Charcoal shards are stark against pale sand.

At the river shallows’ lapping edge, 

Fresh blackened debris

Hopes then ebbs,

Awaits its turn to beach.

Insignificant granulated ash of once great forests,

Enfeebled by flame.

I yearn for the transformation of my world.

Bring the beautiful devastation that blooms from the wild consuming power of youth.

Overtaken

In those days I will become.

Instead of me, a disappearing mess.

I will settle into my new life as an empty

City lot. Nature will take over.

What will be taken?

Everything. I am consumed in the absolute.

For my dissolved myriad it is a total

Becoming. My atoms spun out into atmosphere.

My atoms knit into twigs by the synthesis of light.

Absolved. Sweet rest, shapely as a blade

Of grass.

When will it be over?

I will not experience time, but others will.

Those who admire my nodding weeds,

Will carry my joyful harvest into the world.

What does nature intend?

Persuasive root-filled whispers, blesséd domination.

By then I am breezed and brazen

With mismatched black-eyed blooms,

My brave saplings, bouncy as boxers,

Eventually each patch of lichen duvet will be perfect.

Nature will glance elsewhere seeking new

Patches of soil and beauty.

Then I will exhale.