from Eastvale hills in Beaver vale
as though it were the
trees ablaze
in the spirit of
revival:
a vigil burning on the
mountainside,
unconsumed anticipation
of a time when
the Spirit will move
among the trees and
lay them bare like the
fires once
descending from the heavens.
The trees cry out
Return!
And we cry too--
but cry to whom?
And we cry too--
but cry to whom?
To Jesus Christ? Or to
Carnegie?
Or to the iron sleeping in perdition there?
One day these trees
will consummate:
return to dust, and
rise again from holy ash
in the spirit of the Industrial Resurrection.
