Poetry rejected again :-(

The day before Christmas Eve I rec’d a rejection letter from a publisher–my poems did not make the last cut due to space concerns (sigh).

Scavenger Hunt

Driving around town, I search
the teenage hangouts.
A red pine in the city park has
fallen, the trunk twisted
by wind to slivered threads.

Tornadoes aren’t that selective,
only one tree, and I wonder
what wind can bring such results:
down-blasts, shear winds, winds that
whip leaves into tiny vortices and
propel them across the road.

City workers will slice the pine into
sections, and branches will be fed to
a chipper for mulch.
I think of my own meager woodpile,
estimate my chances before the next storm.

This night may be calm,
the Northern Lights dance as
I drive around town trying to locate
my daughter, but too often the wind
tears us from each other.

I want to share the aurora, the tree, with her.
I need to ask her to stop whipping
me around in these chaotic years.
That red pine stood firm and
five-feet from its root,
spiraled and shattered.
I keep drawing her close.

 

Poem copyright: Kim Nixon