One tree standing for every three hundred gone —
that's what we saw after
the tornado and the ice storm and
the last cold snap of the most brutal
season we'd ever faced.
As I drive down the highway,
I look over and make brief eye contact with
my cousin's grave marker
in the too-full cemetery.
There she is,
because the winter
was too much for her,
because the world
wasn't ready for her —
but the Earth welcomed her.
