And the ghosts of giggling trees strangely still
corporeal, their mossgrown huge
if humble selves
shelved, their velvet birth and beauty marks
fading the color of a tired prepartum sky -
fractured and whole they lie, tongued and truncated
by the formlessness of flame....
from How Love Consumes a Forest,
in memoriam, The Hayman Fire
Each person is but a grain of sand resting beside the sea. This thought sets the tone for Jill Eisnaugle’s latest poetry collection, Beside Still Waters.
