N  a  p a  l  m     H  e  a  l  t  h     S  p  a  :     R  e  p  o  r  t     2  0  1  1

INGRID SWANBERG


a lament and protest in the April of your wake

the one hundred year old oak

has been lain down by saws.


its great and silent logs

    some hollowed by rot

    some hard and fragrant with sap

loom in the neighbor’s yard

below the spring sky

roaring through the bare trees

all around


it might have stood

until we were all of us

under the earth


where its own deep roots yet strive