Sudden Oak Death Syndrome

 

 

Down the long body of California,

ramalina drapes the dead shoulders of oaks

with her bent hair.

 

Lace lichen. It’s the color of sadness,

of rain that goes on for a long time,

of things fading into the distance.

 

Behind its veil ooze black

cankers of phytophthora ramorum.

 

We are in plague time now,

these dead too many to bury, shrouded

in lace the color of smog, fallen

 

like kindling over the stucco-colored hills,

behind dry lakebeds

where are tattooed the lost shapes of reeds.

 

Here I name them, the old friends:

live oak, scrub oak, white oak, black oak,

coffeeberry, huckleberry, buckeye, bay laurel,

rhododendron, manzanita, madrone, sequoia.

 

In the fires, even their roots will burn.

 

We leave our children a place with no eyelids.

They will die thirsty,

telling stories of our green shade.

 

         - Ruth Thompson