Very good.   I’m intrigued about the sister and the moving and that’s a good thing.   Certainly not a boring poem.  The word selection fit the story.  The time for a more a move in Spring kind of gave me a chill and I wondered if that was related to your sister dying and it was all ominous.   But I looked back and it is she will die “some day”.    That kind of made it all unrelated.   So, maybe better hint they are related.

Thanks! I'm in the southern US and I've vaguely heard of Lights, though she's still relatively unknown. As for the enjambment, it's a product of being southern and knowing about the history of lynchings, and the darker side of dwelling on the past. I wanted that line to be a bit jarring and uncomfortable. 

This gave me chills. 

It reminded me of a line in a song called river (by Lights, idk if her stuff is big anywhere in the world but it’s relatively unknown in AUS) 

“Out across the cities I see buildings burn into piles
And watch the world in wonder as mountains turn into tiles
And trees losing their leaves, and our faces becoming tired
I wish I could discover something that doesn't expire
Come and stumble me”


I like how your transition of feelings is relevant to permanence- and that resonates through the whole piece. The seasonal motif is subtle enough that you get a sense of a turn in time, without having to step through that in a clunky way. 

I also like how there is a “coldness to the future” but you get “warm” on booze and stories. It’s a nice nod to your experiences of comfort, and how the future is tolerated by reminiscing on the past. 

In the first stanza, I can’t figure out how I’m supposed to read the word “nails” and the following start of the sentence. Could you expla

I really like the flow of the first three lines, however I find the fourth line slightly pulls me out from the rhythm you have going, I personally find the use of 'clap off' kinda strange just because it doesn't have the same level of seriousness in the language you use, it sounds more like slang to me. 

However after that the poem regains its flow, it is smooth again and I really like the imagery, for example the 'shivering limbs, jagged bark', it is really creative and it sets up a vision of the ugliness of death in the lines further down. 

I think the contrast as well between the expressive description of a dying tree and then in the second stanza, it gives off a sense of innocence and lack of awareness compared to the first despite further down the mention of booze and fire contrasts that image of young adults perceiving lighting bugs to replicate stars. 

I feel like the poem is an growing awareness as young people reach adulthood, and begin to realize and acknowledge the truth 

To me at least, that togetherness is not a perpetual joy, but a melancholy distraction of which all the participants are vaguely aware.

Everyone knows that the place has nothing left for them, but they just haven’t brought themselves to leave, so they take the branches and make something to pass the time and coldness.

I’ve been at these fires before. I really dig OPs southern gothic style.

I like that there is a continuity of time in the poem. Surprisingly you could read the poem backwards and it would have just as strong effect. I feel like the heat and comfort of the fire is a good contrast to the future, but it's not enough. The warmth and heat, and perpetual joy in togetherness needs to be magnified. So the inevitable sadness is felt more strongly. 

Yup, that's a line from Isaiah and probably worked it's way into some hymns as well.

Also, I completely agree about living in the South. It's a shitshow at times, but there's still something really special about it. 

There is an old hymn, I don’t remember the name, but one of the lines goes, “and the trees of the field shall clap their hands...” or something similar to that. Is the line about the clapping trees an allusion to that song? I feel like it is a Jewish Hymn. 

Excellent, by the way. All good poets are keenly aware of both the darkness and hope in the world. You seem to be aware of that. I grew up in the South, and there is a melancholic beauty to the place. I could feel that in your poem. 



Beautiful. A tale of times to come.
Would the first line break be better off with a semicolon rather than a colon? 
Also, you used 'limbs' to describe things in both stanzas. Perhaps come up with another word for one of those sentences? 
I am so curious about where this leads, and feel pain for you regarding your sister, though it's not made entirely clear why. I'm so sorry for whatever loss you've endured.
Keep writing! :) 

This is beautiful. I love the way you describe a barren tree in the opening verse; the descriptive detail is SO compelling. I tripped on the last line of the verse, however; ‘lumber industry’ causes the line to drag a little, and I found myself out of breath finishing the sentence. I would potentially instead end it with ‘and laud industry’ or perhaps a comment using comparison of the felled trees to cities of dead structures. Just a thought. Love this poem! 

This is great! Love the specificity of time and place that gets conveyed effectively by the casual but earnest voice of the speaker. The last two lines of that first stanza are great. A little turn into a sort of self-deprecating irony that ends that first meditation on just the right note before the second stanza. 

I would cut the word "chattering" in that second stanza. It's not necessary, we already picture y'all talking and you mention telling stories later, so that takes care of it if we weren't picturing it already. I would also change "throwing" to just "throw". 

Beautiful ending, and great title. Looking forward to reading more from you.   

This is a fantastic poem. I find it particularly interesting to read the comments and see how each reader sees something different in the poem. Here, for what it's worth, is my take on it.  

I envision a group of young people, all in good health, all enjoying one another's company, gathered around a campfire. Only our narrator is lost in a melancholy mood, contemplating the future: one day my sister will die, one day my friends will move away, one day the leaves will fall from the trees and then the trees will be chopped down. All sad, and all inevitable.  

I appreciate how you took the metaphor of the clapping trees, which Isaiah used as a symbol of joy, and turned it into a symbol of loss. It's a brilliant line in a totally wonderful poem.


There's a coldness to the future:   
One day my sister will die,  
my friends will move away.  
The trees will clap off  
their leaves until they're nothing  
but shivering limbs, jagged bark  
peeling away to sappy sinews,  
ripped to the ground like hang  
nails. We clear cut them in shame  
and brag about our lumber industry.  
&amp;nbsp; 

We watch lightning bugs fill our yards with  
stars and call it magic.  
We gather around our limb fires, chattering,  
throwing in another branch, some cardboard,  
a bottle occasionally -- we get warm  
on booze and stories,  
how my sister just got her license,  
how we're all still here around the fire.  
Maybe we should've moved away already,  
but it doesn't matter now.  
There will be time for that in the Spring.
  

[1](https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/8aflif/it_will_dissipate/dx03t61/?context=0)|[2](https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/8afjo8/april_requiem/dx048kv/?context=0)

Southern Sadness