Beth Camp Historical Fiction

Tuesday, October 08, 2013

October 8: When a tree falls . . .

When a tree falls,
there's a thump.
Don't tell me no one hears.
I'm talking a big house-bouncing bump
and a ripple of noise that cracks
through my morning.

They're taking trees down next door
in a lot that's been empty long enough
for deer to forage all year long.
In the spring and summer, they bring their fawns.
In the winter, the deer walk slowly out
from the tall pines, lifting their noses
from snow-covered grasses
to gaze at our apartment building.
Perhaps they see movement at the window --
me looking at them in wonder
as I do now at men using chainsaws
that buzz through a quiet October morning,
and at a harvester that lifts massive stumps
to shake the red dirt away.

A white dog comes from nowhere
to bark at this intrusion.
I love that little white dog.
I will miss the deer.

The lot next door in June (Camp 2013)

Lot next door in October (Camp 2013)

Join in the fun by writing a poem a day for OctPoWriMo. Read what others have written here.

Today's prompt was to write a poem that began "Love is like . . . " but you can see that I slid sideways. I'm so far behind on my 'to-do' list that this may be the ONLY thing I get done -- even before my own writing!   But I'll be reading what others have written before the day ends. How about you?


  1. How sad! I loved the line "I'm talking a big house-bouncing bump".

  2. I love the white dog too, and the poem

  3. This makes me so sad, I can't even tell you. Poor fawns and little babies.

  4. This is very sad and unfortunate. So much of our wild life is getting cut down and pushed back. Your poem brings much feeling.

  5. Thank you all for reading today's poem. Really, it began with a crash! We benefit from and are surrounded by the effects of continuing development(urban sprawl), but rarely does it happen "next door"! Such development does push the wildlife further out of the cities. But I do remember hiking in a wetlands and being followed by a large and hungry-looking coyote one early spring.

  6. I just love your first stanza. "Don't tell me no one hears." Perfection!