Ode on the Ash Tree

by Amy Rust Higgins

 

In a town named for trees,

it strikes the heart doubly hard

to see every ash succumb

to blight. Tunnels of shade

collapse, leaving

only sawdust and stumps.

The rest dragged off

to quarantined dumps,

no log left to burn,

no promise of fire in winter.

 

We’ve regained the sky.

 

We’re bereft.

 

Recycling trees went awry

campground warnings came too late:

Don’t Transport Firewood!

 

The trees’ elliptical leaves—

like Cleopatra’s eyes—

spread their canopy over children

whose game is to run in sun

then walk slowly through

each circle of shade.

 

The beetle’s carapace

glints metallic green in sun.

Emerald is too rich a word

for any parasite.

 

On our street, their last summer begins.

Under each ash tree, savor the coolness.

We will outlive them

and they will be like us—

ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

 

 

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Amy Higgins lives close enough to Pioneer Woods to pretend it’s her backyard. She has taught English at Washtenaw Community College for twenty-five years, and has a fierce commitment to poetry, birds, and teaching in person. She wrote this poem just before the city came through and cut down every ash tree lining her shady street in 2004 during the emerald ash borer devastation.

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This is an original poem, brought to you by Poet Tree Town, a Washtenaw-based poetry-in-public initiative and celebration of local poets. Find out more about Poet Tree Town on Instagram and Facebook, or say hello at [email protected].