Oak wilt and blood moons
Oak Wilt and blood moons
and I'm crossing a barrier
yesterday, walking the property
thinking of acreage
drought killing the trees
or oak wilt, spooks underfoot
the fallen must be leared,they cry
we cry for the fallen, head hanging
see everything seeding
or seed pods on my legs on my jeans
or my boots kicking through
the dried grass with seed pods that cling
red gama, cane bluestem
white tridens, sand dropseed
they and us soon to emerge
along the golden wave coreopsis
and see, this place was beautful
and most likely will be again.
by Russell Hill