afterlife of trees

I
after I tore off my roof on purpose
i built a stairway from the liberated rafters
milled out of the last giant cedars from the everglades

now they are treads
walked on tenderly until that distant day
they will be cremated to make electricity

small puffs of their windblown remains
will be inhaled by other generations
whose own liberated atoms will nourish the ground
perhaps enlivening future trees

II
in japan doctors prescribe forest bathing
to build bonds with the trunks and limbs
leaves and canopy in fair trade for undying wellness--
which the soul will keep enfolded well after time ends

color therapists join the fun
unravelling custom stress-relief shades
be they lime-khaki-jade-clover-kelly-olive-
emerald-mint-shamrock-fern-moss or sage
enough choices to make a self-contained green rainbow

III
before your judgy mind can stop you
become a planetary citizen
admit that you’ve fallen in fondness with a sabal palm

confess that you’ve hugged that ageless oak
into which your younger self carved a heart

divulge that you cried when your prized cypress fell over
in that storm punctuated by thunder and dizzying wind

​knowing these moments eternally burn in your inner campfire
you—like trees—can translate sunlight into cool shade
rain attraction climate composure
and beyond even to your own forever-enriched behavior
in which these gifts shall live on
in human in earthly and especially in star-field
consciousness

This poem first appeared in Poetry in the Park: Nature of Place, an Anthology, 2024