BURNING GREEN WOOD

Antoni Tudisco

This is a poem from by book WHERE THE STARS ARE KEPT.  Rattlesnake Press, Pollack Pines, Ca. 2007.

The book is no longer in print.

BURNING GREEN WOOD

Once in Spring, i saw a heart

Smoldering atop a fire of green

Wood.  “Pruning fire,” the farmer told

Me when I came closer to watch.

“Looks like a heart in there.”, I said

Pointing.  “Reckon so,” he answered.  “Came

Out of the pears.”  He gestured to the 

Orchard.  “Kind of unusual, no?” I offered.

“Found ‘em before,” he said, poking at it

With a long-handled rake.  “After Winter

There’s lots of stuff comes out of pruning.  I’ve found

Boxes of letters.  lots of dreams, well, parts

Of them anyway.  They don’t last long usually.

Even found prayers, once or twice.  Think

People would take better care of them.”

The heart caught fire, flamed briefly then

Quieted down again.  “Out here’s a good

Place to leave things, “he continued,

“Puppies, kittens, a body once,

Nobody knew who he was.

Things that are hard to lose, have to put

Them someplace.  Think that heart’s been

There all Winter.  Looked pretty battered.”

“Kind of sad, isn’t it?” I asked.

“Always is,” he said looking me in the face.

“Better than after the war though.  There were

A lot of them then.  That’s why I use

Green wood, new growth.  Makes lots

Of smoke, yes, but it’s new stuff.

Seems better to do it like this.”  He shifted

His weight and threw more wood

On the flames, covering the heart altogether.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked.

“Walking.  I like long walks.”

“Good thing, walks,” he said.  “Have a nice one.”

“Thank you,” I replied and started away,

The smell of wood smoke in my nostrils,

The tower of it reaching high above

The orchard.  The sky still morning pink.

A sound of songbirds came, first far away,

then closer, insisting that the moment

Indeed be Spring, all else of no matter whatsoever.