GATHERING DEADWOOD

Littered with debris, the forest floor

Heaves with the decay of branches and twigs,

Caves in from the weight of fallen tree trunks that

Indent the surface of the humus with their form and length.

Deep burrows form as stumps and roots soften,

And the leaf cover is adamant as it cloaks the deadwood. 

The gatherer stacks the pieces, works around a center,

Reclaims each stray remnant, and builds a mound,

Earthen works in disguise, built from branching fractals and

Hand-sawed logs dripping bark as they’re lifted onto the pile,

Much as a bird would build a nest of sticks and twigs

Before lining it with moss and feathers.

Mounds multiply across the forest floor

Debris falls on schedule like shadows,

Like words broken from the tongue and

Fallen through the air unheard,

Lost at the foot of a tree, mixed with the birds’ calls and the wind’s sigh,

Sounds that stop after the tree falls.

Each piece designs the mound as it is heaved into place

Unevenly balanced on logs or branches already laid until the tangle

Catches and weaves a labyrinthine, rounded shape

That slowly fades with time.

© cmheuer, 2013