Fallen from the Canopy

My mother would tell me the story

of a Great Tree

which towered over the ocean

and gazed at the mountains

 

Who’s dark knots

hosted Wandering Salamanders

while Red Tree Voles

scrambled through her leaves

 

And every morning

Lemur climbed her branches

skipping between rungs

peering at her bark

 

Curious Lemur would climb and climb

until he found dark patches

to tear away from her trunk

and reveal rotten wood

 

And every morning

Raven would soar above her crown

in lazy swooping circles

peering at her bark

 

Clever Raven would soar and soar

until she spotted Lemur

tear away bark

and reveal rotten wood

 

When Lemur cast the bark off

Raven would know to dive down

and dig her beak into the soft wood

to rip mites from their hideout

 

For Raven and Lemur

to feast on together

 

 As leaves withered

and fell to the ground

then grew back anew

Lemur watched Raven more closely

 

In the sheen of her coat

Lemur caught his reflection

and acquired a taste

for the beauty of Raven

 

One morning, on Lemur’s ascent

he hid a stone in his mouth

sharpened by rushing water

by the roots on the bank

That morning Lemur climbed

and climbed

and found a piece of bark

he couldn’t tear off

 

Lemur slid the point of the rock

into the folds of the bark

wrapped his tail around the trunk

and pried until the wood snapped off

 

and fell to the ground

revealing bright red wood

 

At the sight of Lemur’s command

Raven dove down to Lemur

and plunged her long beak

into the wood

 

Lemur, captured by his reflection

in the glimmer of Raven

hardly notice her beak strike wood

over and over

 

Raven, never let down

by her Lucky Lemur

Struck even as her head wrung

even as her beak dulled

 

Until to the horror of Lemur

a final shock Zig Zagged

down her beak

splintering her maw

 

Lemur, hung by his tail

lunged to catch Raven

but his hand full with river rock

slid down her shining feathers

 

As Raven fell

in slow spirals

to the base

of the Great Tree

 

Now the Great Tree aches

and sways

withering at the marks of 10,000 mites

and Lemur still climbs

every morning

to rip off dead bark

hoping one day

Raven will return

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Moment to Moment

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Poetry for the Doomscroll Generation