In this week’s poem, Matthew Bernier shares the tale of a tree rent in two by wind in the night. I love the autumnal melancholia in the image of the split maple and how the poem’s last lines show us the two halves not just of a tree, but of a man’s life.

Bernier works as a civil and environmental engineer, restoring sea-run fish, including endangered Atlantic salmon, to Maine rivers through projects like dam removals. His poems have appeared in the Aurorean, Spire: The Maine Journal of Conservation and Sustainability, and the collection “Paul Bunyan Wears a Face Mask.” He lives in Pittsfield.

Poets, please note that submissions to Deep Water are open now and through the end of the year. Deep Water is especially eager to share poems by Black writers, writers of color, Indigenous writers, LGBTQ+ writers and other underrepresented voices. You’ll find a link to submit in the credits below.

Split
By Matthew Bernier

Conversation blew through the night,
and in the morning I discovered a large
sugar maple had split completely in two,
one half divorced from its better half
and lying in a frosty field, looking forlorn,
heartwood dark and silently weeping,

a prodigal sun returning in the east
as I wielded my chainsaw like a sword,
defending my honor in late November,
so I bucked that tree like a young man,
this firewood not for this winter,
this firewood not for me.

Megan Grumbling is a poet and writer who lives in Portland. DEEP WATER: Maine Poems is produced in collaboration with the Maine Writers & Publishers Alliance. “Split,” copyright 2024 by Matthew Bernier, appears by permission of the author. Submissions to Deep Water are open now and through the end of the year. For more information, go to https://www.mainewriters.org/deep-water.