FIREWEED
for Peter, in his house
After the fire comes the flower.
In the slashy hills,
in the creek bottoms
where the loggers have walked,
I could see their mauve river
riding the burnt hills into the Yukon autumn.
Fireweed, the first flower rages across
the old bald mountain, the stony mountain,
fighting for life with the poplars and the willows
as they fade to yellow and then auburn.
Fireweed erupts
and feeds shadows, dampness, alders,
aspen, pines, firs, squirrels
rats, mice, crows, hawks, squirrels.
Here they come
the treasures of the forest,
wolverines, Siberian wolves, blue foxes,
more …