To lose an oak
is no heartbreak.
—No,
but to see them go
by the acre,
at a stroke,
is enough to
crack a man open,
the heart not broken
so much as stricken,
torqued at the root
and left in a thick
choke of ache.
Just so,
a whole forest’s
felling will take
faith’s poorest
dwelling down and
leave the chimney—
stark
in an open space
—like a brick
marker indicating
a once good place.