Poem: Ashen Oak


Grayson Smith

Some secret woods I wandered often

I had used to make fears soften

But now, those woods are dwindling,

All that’s left’s burnt kindling,

Yet, I thought, not long ago,

The woods’ leaves prospered, seemed to glow

Now those same leaves are choked by smoke,

Ash and soot fill hollow oak,

So here I dig, see what’s below,

What I had ignored, long ago

The support’s health I would not see,

You burnt (your/the) roots, I watched the leaves.