tide

in my place on the mountain there are open spaces in the masses of trees
and the trees are holding the place for when the open spaces return
years of neglect, disservice, symbols of apathy
i can use a pasture, a log or board,
forests remind me how removed i am from the land.
ox by axe, rock walls at a rod a day
rich fresh sap, and log road
blue sky, chickadee
hardened arms under brown shirts
log by log
steward
reabsorbed into the land