the woods in the wind








Rebecca Buchanan


the woods in the wind

the bombs fell
the world burned

and the earth heaved and sighed
her last breath
catching up seeds
and pollen
and spores
and ash

and cast them high
into the cold
and the dark

and the sun exhaled
a cry of mourning
and gathered up the seeds
and the pollen
and the spores
and the ash

and bore them safely
through the dark and the cold
and into the care of her fourth child

and so the trees
and the flowers
and the ferns
grow again

in red soil
against an orange sky
scorched by the fires of armageddon


Rebecca Buchanan is the editor of the Pagan literary e-zine, Eternal Haunted Summer. She has been previously published, or has work forthcoming, in Eye To The Telescope, Faerie Magazine, Polu Texni, Silver Blade, Star*Line, and other venues.

Editor’s Note: The polysyndeton in the poem anchors the exasperation of pending doom, as does the Mercator projection of the world, blackened, against the fire.


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