November Trees
Rent from DeepDyve- November Trees
The forest doesn't bury its dead But stands among them – Last year's leaves curled at its feet The fallen logs of its kind. If the trees murmur or sigh Crack or groan It is only the wind. The trees themselves are silent. In all their grace And terrible nakedness they symbolize Nothing. They are beyond us. How can we bear it?
Alice Friman
Alice Friman is the author of Zoo (University of Arkansas P), winner of the Ezra Pound Poetry Award from Truman State University, and the Sheila Motton Prize from the New England Poetry Club. Her new collection, The Book of the Rotten Daughter, is forthcoming from BkMk Press.
