The Wounded Trees Poem by Robert Rorabeck
The Wounded Trees
Fish speared by a wounded dream, taking her
Away from me-
The cost of hours upon the house, whose dousing
Charade sinks into me-
This time a wound singing up the fire,
Frightening the angels from the weeds:
They’d sing so far away-
Evaporating into the nature of all human beings:
The baseball players on their knees,
Calling to her nature through the wounded trees.
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8/28/2026 6:57:23 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
