Spring winds rose this morning,
clearing the sky of clouds,
snapping branches newly greened.

Late in the day I walk among
the leavings, registering them
by name—black walnut,

Japanese maple, Douglas fir—
sorry that they have been felled
so early in their lives.

I know this well: We are not
all designed for longevity,
And these are just parts of

larger beings whose souls
appear unscathed. Still, there
is grief for the parts of us

that give way sooner than we
would like. We hope to make it
to our ends carrying everything

we came with, mourning what
is lost along the way, no matter
how much we wish to leave

the world intact.