Volume 30, Number 2

Two Years In

I could not have imagined this any more
than you could remember how the trees

looked naked of leaves back when it was
still summer and they were crowned in

great dollops of green. Nor could I have
predicted which one would snap four feet

up its trunk, naked of leaves but weighted
with late, wet snow, which tree would fall

long after the high wind stopped. How can
we still cook supper in our oniony kitchens?

How? Yesterday, the power was restored but
our children weep as they march. Prayers and

curses shuttle freely among us. Sometimes, I
fear sleep. The trees know what happens next.

—Christine Potter