They cut down the last tree on the @3campo@1 where I sit near the old boatyard at San Trovaso. The birds also miss it: they fly into the space where it once stood and sink, as though in quicksand. I can now see the path, church, and castle. But did I need to? Rain now falls hard to the ground, with no leaves or limbs to pause on. Yet, when did Venice seriously need trees or gardens not secretly kept behind stone walls? Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271, Port Townsend, WA 98368-0271, www.cc.press.org | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE END OF THE EPISODE by THOMAS HARDY LINES WRITTEN TO HIS WIFE [WHILE ON A VISIT TO UPPER INDIA] by REGINALD HEBER THE PLACE OF THE DAMNED by JONATHAN SWIFT THE TWO ANGELS by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER DANSE RUSSE by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS NIGHT AFTER NIGHT by GERTRUDE BLOEDE |