By Joshua St. Claire
the earth itself ramifying a red pine
Appalachian dawn
hemlock shadows
fall off the edge of the earth
yellow oak
the Big Bang
begins anew
spruce sky
the blue deepens
at my feet
yellow black walnut leaves the insect voice tinged with duskcolor
acorns
an old oak
collects the flood
the time it takes for a honey locust to burn up an autumn afternoon
sun tea
this memory
of maple
bare ginkgo
the deep cyan
fractalizes
entering St. Patrick’s
breath
from a hollow elm
—
Joshua St. Claire is an accountant from a small town in Pennsylvania. His poetry has been published or are forthcoming in Notre Dame Review, Lana Turner, Sugar House Review, Two Thirds North, and ballast, among others.