CLEAR CUTS
No forest over which the red shouldered hawk
can call and display, no oak in which to nest.
The black poll warbler has no stop-over
on its way north, no insects to fuel its flight.
Sun will not be shredded onto the forest floor.
The tuxedoed towhee will have no leaves
in which to scratch, its song will not spill
into morning air. Nor will wild turkey
have places to search for roots and insects,
no roost free from the fox’s hunt.
No shade will remain for the fern to uncoil
or for trillium’s subtle bloom. No leaf mold
in which the centipede can hide.
What’s left is scarred
and weeps sap.
CLEAR CUTS
