the burned land ravaged, a cruel brown with
definite charrings at each crackled tree's
base--blacker than the rest, like a
dry fiery watering, when the
roots are soaked up to their surfaces,
the ground around these dark
a splotchy uneven crispness,
each square foot its own personality,
its own courage and tolerance.
such ethical cleansings are needed, says the
park ranger, so that new life may
scanning, brow-shadowed, the
emptied map of non-surfaces, I
wonder if the seedlings know
through what carnage they come.