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John Ward Hocter

This is my first poem

about trees.  Actually,

I did one before

but a child died of cancer.

That wasn't really about trees.

This one needs

an image.

Maybe the leaves are children

at a movie theatre, the seats

branches, the screen the trunk.

No, because the children are laughing.

Maybe the screen is wind,

and life the trunk.

That sounds better,

I think.

And conflict.

A chainsaw, or a lightning bolt,

or a disease, or a forest fire,

or a drunk driver, or even

just plain-old death.

Trees die, I'm pretty sure.

Like children with cancer.

A simile.

How about a little alliteration?

Or maybe¾just maybe¾an "em" dash.

There may be time to slip in rhyme,

as long as it's not awkward.

Some meter could improve the poem, too.

Good. Now, something catchy to end on.

No clichés.

Trees are poetry; and poets, gods.

No, that's stupid.

Maybe I should start

over again.