Hadlock Pond, Below the Falls

Perhaps the purpose
of leaves is to conceal 
the verticality 
of trees 
which we notice 
in December 
as if for the first time: 
row after row 
of dark forms 
yearning upwards. 
And since we will be 
horizontal ourselves 
for so long, 
let us now honor 
the gods 
of the vertical: 
stalks of wheat 
which to the ant 
must seem as high 
as these trees do to us, 
silos and 
telephone poles, 
stalagmites 
and skyscrapers. 
but most of all 
these winter oaks, 
these soft-fleshed poplars, 
this birch 
whose bark is like 
roughened skin 
against which I lean 
my chilled head, 
not ready to lie down.


Vertical, by Linda Pastan