At high altitude, millions of Western Pines
have turned the color of rust. "Drought- stressed
and beetle ravaged," those still standing will feel the
chainsaw's whetted bite, "where new things come in."

Elsewhere, the silence between rocks is rattled by
machines laying foundations for new homes;
the dropped leaves of their tended trees
skitter back to when nights were spent

honing a chainsaw's teeth for bucking
fallen trees to feed the blazing
belly of the cabin's cast
iron stove.