Xyloid Hymn Poem by Fred Rik Kesner
Xyloid Hymn
"Xyloid Hymn in the Windbreak"
The pine trees do not sing;
they rub their dead branches together
until its resin warms.
It is an instrument
made of split grain and dry beetle holes,
tuned only to the northern gale.
We listen with our ears pressed
to the rough bark, hearing
the slow, wooden creak of wood
that spent a hundred years
learning how to bend
without breaking off at the root.
.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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10/16/2026 2:26:35 AM # rel_20260925T122446Z_7d6ee41
