A Ninth Winter Haiku

With a Reflective Journal Entry

Trees witnessing still
Death hanging savior of our
Fevered delusions


, getting out of bed, I looked to the back meadow. Tiny ice crystals hung in the air, limiting visibility a quarter mile or so. In that early light, the world’s morning kiss was icy blue. The mercury read 3° Fahrenheit (or -16° Celsius).

All of the trees stood vigilant, embracing the morning frost. I thought of these trees, now dormant; soon their sap will flow. With life blood pumping, they’ll resume their dutiful sequestration of carbon dioxide.

They are a witness to our organized capital(ist) crimes; and the mob kills the witnesses to their actions.

Trees aren’t enough to save us. As a good friend of mine says, “We need to make dirt.” Literal and figurative.

Literal dirt for sequestering carbon dioxide as well as for growing more localized food, and those beautiful trees.

Figurative dirt for the foundation and basis of change.

The trees show us how; fixing the problems around them by growing a little each day.