<html><head><meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=us-ascii"></head><body style="word-wrap: break-word; -webkit-nbsp-mode: space; line-break: after-white-space;" class=""><div dir="auto" style="word-wrap: break-word; -webkit-nbsp-mode: space; line-break: after-white-space;" class=""><div class="gmail-layoutArea"><div class="gmail-column"><p class="">Petrified Wood </p></div></div><div class="gmail-layoutArea"><div class="gmail-column"><p class="">In this moment,<br class="">the wind lofted branches</p><p class="">dance their familiar pine waltz.</p><p class="">And while the June snowfall clings, </p><p class="">the granite peaks remain</p><p class="">seemingly permanent, unchanging.</p><p class="">While elsewhere, </p><p class="">the virus dance destroys,</p><p class="">and cuts open inequities</p><p class=""> to global view,</p><p class=""><br class="">and rage</p><p class=""> at the atrocities to which we are powerless, </p><p class="">channels</p><p class="">to meet the currents of rage</p><p class="">at the human atrocities we must control.</p><p class=""><br class=""></p><p class="">Here, the ancient deaths become rocks of treasure,</p><p class=""> spawning new appreciation.</p><p class="">Yet, let us not take aeons -of grains as small as sand -</p><p class="">of empathy , compassion, and justice,</p><p class=""><br class="">to bring us to treasure the present,</p><p class=""> human, xylem and phloem of our communities.</p><p class="">Let us not wait</p><p class=""> for the living gifts of our people</p><p class=""> to turn to stone, before they are preserved. </p><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class=""><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>- Renee Dryfoos</div></div></div></div></body></html>