Poem: for greenleaf

This is 6/30 even though its the 10th of April. Got to catch up!

For some years now, around this part of spring,
I wake in terror: this year may be first
that oaks fail to leaf. It’s only my thing —
This continuing terror that the worst
will happen, that we’ll drown in our black breath
while the fungi and insects eat the trees.
It’s a nameable dread of a choking death:
an end to the squirrels, the wrens and bees.
That’s what is meant by Ragnarok, I think:
The doom of Yggsadrill and rooted lands…
For a leaf is only one sacred link
In chains forged of wings, paws, seeds, spores, and hands.
Not this year, Fenris: let the apple bloom,
Else let me die before sweet maples’ doom.

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