After the Swan

Crosshatch in
charcoal shades
ashy husks and
impenetrable blacks
in tangles on scorched earth;
ebony spires
standing stark monument
to a life lived in
lush overgrowth –
Musical balls in
palaces of birch and spruce
and cottonwood greens
whispered trysts among
the alders
and laughing leaf races
on brook-ish trails
The subdued commotion
of sylvan soiree

Now silent,
the scent of smoke
a lingering memento of
that which was,

and the curling green
of newborn shoot

a promise of what will be.

-KJ Roe