A Preference for Cottonwoods
            by Steve Boint
 
I
Have heard
The wind rush
Through cottonwoods
On cold, autumn nights.
Their thick, squat, stiff leaves sound
Like no other:  roaring the
Way a rocky stream roars
But with the slap of
Leaves adding a
High click like
Falling
Rain.
 
And,
I have
Heard the roar
Of autumn pines
(In the valley where
Robeaux cemetery
Rests) like a river, but with
A lonesome, keening tug
That made me weep for
All that has gone
And all that
Still may
Come.
 
 
© 2005   All rights reserved, printed here with permission from the poet