Pushed by bully winds,
its snapping ankle already gnawed
by termites and wood ants,
creates a fall that is strangely silent.
Bushy head atop a tall, lean trunk
snared in mid-fall by two smaller pines,
struggling but determined
to keep the fallen above ground.
In swirling gales
her seedlings
lean precariously
under the dead weight
celebrating her life
until the chainsaws
separate
her from her roots.
Cut into pieces
fed into a shredder
her chips
spewed into the forest.
The two saplings
are free again to stretch while
each whispering breeze through
their needles sing her praise.
Poem by C.W. Bigelow
After receiving his B.A. in English from Colorado State University, C.W. Bigelow lived in nine U.S. northern states, before moving to the Charlotte NC area. His fiction and poetry have most recently appeared in Midway Journal, The Blue Mountain Review, Glassworks, Blood & Bourbon, Good Works Review, Backchannels, The Saturday Evening Post, Short Story Town, Flash Fiction Magazine, Remington Review, Hare’s Paw, The Write Launch, Hole in the Head Review, Last Leaves and Drunk Monkeys, with a story forthcoming in Moss Piglet.