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Tony Gentry

Conviction: a poem

Updated: May 17

A few years later back at Yosemite the taste of ash at the throat blackened hills, smoke rising from the singed crowns of towering redwoods

where before we had strolled as if in cathedral light when the boys were little and taught them not to pick the wildflowers.


We stand agog in a waste land:


My shame, their wonder at where to start.


This photo, taken on our recent trip, a hilltop trail at Topanga State Park.

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