ELDERFLORA

Mastering the art of dying slowly — Poetry by Tim Kahl

ELDERFLORA

Recitation and original musical setting by the author:

By Tim Kahl

after Jared Farmer
 

I cannot grow a life that stands in one place
for centuries, so I defer to this earth
with its temporal shifts and cataclysms,
but the bristlecone pulls through, pinching
itself off bit by bit until it is reduced
to a strip of bark. It has mastered the art
of dying slowly. Its resins protect it from
predators and pests. The lignin in its cell walls
provides another layer of defense. Slowly
it retreats to its most stable form as dwarf.
 
Or maybe the daring of the sequoias is preferred.
They grow so fast to win the war for a shower
of light at the canopy top. The water pumped 
to the upper reaches indicates a stout heart,
but gravity can be as fatal as rot. 
 
For the gingkos, scions of endless genesis, 
they never wear down, and the aspens travel 
the mythic underworld to pass the secret of 
their long life from the root mass. No wonder 
the distant ancestors sought the tree as 
the symbol of the birth of life.
 
They knew the worth of an oldenbough,
its myriad strategies for making it through
times that are tough. The temperatures are
rising. The deserts are expanding, and 
the mega-fires incinerate past the point of quit.
The growth of ordinary trees takes over, 
all aligned with the same purpose and reason.
They regenerate but they fail to stoke
the imagination of a time that wasn't so sapient.

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Tim Kahl is the author of six books of poems, most recently California Sijo (Bald Trickster, 2022) and Drips, Spills, Bursts, Tangles, and Washes (Cold River Press, 2024). He is a recovering academic who seeks therapy among strings and winds. Look for him on the sidelines at Sacramento Republic games. http://www.timkahl.com

https://soundcloud.com/tnklbnnly

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