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DOWNED
—After the storm that downed the last Taliesin oak
I.
Our oak won’t last, but its wood will
curled and drying each part to its own
nature, final response toward earth
again: leaf or root or bark, the sticky
tannin at the heart; big tree turning
twisting down, singular life falling
II.
The bell sits alone in the corner made by
the limestone wall, as soon as its weight
leaves our hands, four strong men lay it
on sad gravel, we forget it, pile logs
from the downed oak before its face
Who can remember its tone, more kin
to earth than music, muted now, lip
on the ground it was forged from, waiting
for a tree that can once again bear its
weight, for the limb its chain can girdle
Jim says it best: “you’ve got to ring the
whole earth to get that one going”