by Ash Schlax
THE ASPEN GROVE
The aspen quake
Before the rest—
A shiver down the spine
Warning from afar.
Do you hear the subtle
Voice on the wind?
It travels down, deep
Across miles
Between chasms—
Here, many are one,
Or is one many?
I think, perhaps
It does not matter.
Roots dive deep,
Spread wide beside
The stream, interconnected
In ways I cannot reach.
Theirs is a language
Soaked in ancient wisdom
Found deep in earth.
Perhaps it is a warning, yes.
But perhaps an invitation, too—
To shake off the fear
And dance in the sun.
ASH SCHLAX
Ash Schlax is a poet, artist, and illustrator whose work strives to find the places where the light gets in. Raised in the Northeast, she now tends to a slow life in the Arizona desert alongside her husband, three children, and their beloved cat and dog.
When she isn't writing or painting, you'll find her homeschooling, cultivating their little desert cottage and garden, or in deep conversation over a cup of coffee. Her debut poetry collection, Where the Honeysuckles Grow, was released this year.
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