Monday, 1 February 2016

Poem by the Norwegian writer Thor Sørheim

When the big tree fell

When the big tree fell
the air thwacked out between the branches
to both sides, the leaves went into a spin
and the willow warblers whirred in the empty space
without a hold. In falling the tree seemed

more frightening than the actual
gale, we had no idea what forces
we had in our own garden before the iron
clothes dryer bent at the knee like an ear of corn
under the trunk. Thunderstruck we saw

the horizon tearing into vision
like a wooded planet we had never
previously observed so close to the house,
and the collision would have been inevitable
had it not been for the wedge of light
that slipped through quick as lightning.

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