by Ashley Lane

The forest is too clever for its own good.

The leaves, thick tongued, are heavy
With sap and machinery—going together.
Housing the whisper of ferrets and snakes
Disguising themselves as silence.

So many secrets here—
The more manicured the trees, the deeper
The hidden wilderness,
Preserved and bound in its quarters.

Every generation thinks that it has discovered
A new way to save the forest from itself.
From cathartic fires and cooperative ants—
Implicated, never indicted.
Sometimes the trees deign to speak with winded tongues.

But only to remind us
That they know better.


Author's Note: It's been years, but I've decided it's time to try writing poems again. Forgive the rust--it is rather stubborn.

Posted on 09/05/2011
Copyright © 2022 Ashley Lane

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Charlie Morgan on 09/05/11 at 05:15 PM

...ashley, so glad you decided to "try" as you say...you haven't missed a stride, m'lady. this is quite a tall pome[sic]...says a lot of my belief system. we are one, martin buber hugged a tree to show that.

Posted by Amy Manning on 09/05/11 at 07:41 PM

i love your word choice. "the leaves, thick tongued" charming.

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