Wednesday, 24 of August of 2016

Walkin’ Jim Stoltz – Joshua Tree

Desert morning limps along
Dry, heat waves across the plain
Stillness catches hold and squeezes

Distant visage
Spokes of green
Trees? Here?

Closer now
Splayed stalks of spiked fronds
Trunks, bowed and twisted
Bobbing snakeheads out reaching for what?
Shall I even call them trees?

Thin shade, but deep
To hide from the relentless one
A breather to pause
Letting the sweat dry
Listening
To marvel at one forest
Safe from the logger’s saw.

Walkin’ Jim Stoltz
June 1993 Earth First!


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