This Rock
has scars, hollows worn
by the constant fine hand
of water. That pine shows
the marks of barbed wire,
a bough ripped by lightning.
Chestnuts fall to viruses.
A vole the size of a teaspoon
gnaws the wires bare
on the truck. Earthworms
tunnel red clay to loam.
The earth beneath our feet splits
between the pressure of cold and heat
and we in our huge human frailty
dare to imagine we will
not hurt one another? Even
this rock has scars.
– margo solod