KNOWN THIS STORY ALL MY LIFE

He was just a boy then, alone, leading the giant stallions

—Thunder and Lightning—pulling timber from the forest

to the road. He saw three branches sweep 

an empty sky and knew his future son would die.

When it started to rain, he unbridled the horses

and took them down the stream to drink

and huddle under a bridge. Later, when he 

couldn’t do it, he remembered. His hands cut 

down his favorite cherry tree, white blooms 

falling on a cross of honey almost too heavy—

brought it north into the mountain, above the snow

line, where his son’s plane crashed during the war.

PUBLISHED IN SILK ROAD REVIEW, 2023