Packing: A Short Science Poem

So, tree.

Does summer know you’re leaving?


Leaving leaves to senescence?

You’ve shuttered your

first zones, I see.

Closed some taps.

I know your obedience.

your death to self.

Soon, she will too.

Those wrenching tears,

that hard abscission.

First ride blows into town and

you’ll send them packing.





And, IN AN EGGSHELL, SM posts from earlier this week:

Last cutting.

“Those who go out weeping, carrying seed to sow, will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with them.”

—Psalm 126:6



Tough Climb.

(Note the raft at lower left, for scale.)

Salmon River, Idaho

“And I will make all my mountains a road . . .”

—Isaiah 49:11




“The first little pig soon met a man with a load of straw. ‘Please, mister, will you give me some straw to build a house?'”



Red-Tail art.

“He has filled them with skill to do every sort of work done by an engraver or by a designer or by an embroiderer in blue and purple and scarlet yarns and fine twined linen, or by a weaver—by any sort of workman or skilled designer.”

—Exodus 35:35


Blessings, friends. I’m glad you’re here.

Watching Nature, Seeing Life: Through His Creation, God Speaks

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Love the outdoors? I can take you there. Rural & wild PNW posts and photos from a naturalist, faith writer, and author of three books, including the award-winning novel Sugar Birds. Member of Redbud Writers Guild.

4 thoughts on “Packing: A Short Science Poem

  1. The Pictures Are Awesome Cheryl, Is The Baling taking Place On Your Farm?
    Autumn Leaves are Beautiful!
    Thanks For Starting My Day With The Poem Too.

    Liked by 1 person

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