Dendrology

We watched lightning strikes explode branches,
The storm hit town right where the road branches.

Isn’t all life a matter of power charges and current, 
electric networks with their loops, nodes, branches?

Before I die, I want to understand the complex motherboards
of trees, how they plot roots, program leaves, code branches.

Heavy spring snow catches the maples when they’re distracted
by sap flow and leaf spread. Ice and snow can overload branches.

Did the bee’s heart leap when, in spring sunshine, clinging 
to bucking blossoms, she and her sisters rode branches?

Acid clouds and rain destroy the waxy protection on leaves.
Brown spots weaken trees, corrode branches.

We mourn the lost limbs, so many, torn this year
from my family tree. Old, dear, branches.

LYNN PATTISON

Michigan poet Lynn Pattison is the author of Matryoshka Houses (Kelsay Press, 2020) and several other collections. Her poems have appeared in Pedestal, Ruminate, New Flash Fiction Review, Smartish Pace, and numerous other journals. Pattison has had a number of works included in anthologies over the years.