Lamentation of Reaping

Green hallows, welcome fall.

Crows know the changing well.

For charcoal-black is back, surveying

from trees, sky, and ground;

scavenging the all we do not note.

Tree deaths rose this year.  Victims

of flux in weather and climate,

and the harvest to accommodate us

—the bona fide wood borer. 

Another mountain has gone under. 

While another wild beauty made

that fluctuating list.

New and improved technology has

the already whirring, stirring,

at twister speed

as another resource goes to bone. 

What leaves are left change again

—are we further ahead or left behind?

Green hallows, welcome fall.

Crows know the changing well.

Charcoal-black is back on the wing,

updating the blueprints of Earth.

Amber Rose Crowtree (born Adams) currently lives in New Hampshire.  Her poems have appeared in The North American Review, The 2008 Poet’s Guide to New Hampshire, New England Writer's Network, Crosscut, The Puckerbrush Review, and others, and is forthcoming in Willow Review.  In 2012, she received an award for poetry through the Sunapee, NH, Center for the Arts Literary Guild. Meanwhile, Amber is in her in 6th season for the National Park Service.