a glacier retreated

When you left it was as if a glacier retreated,
As if the ice tonnage, which rasped, scraped, and scoured for ages,
Diminished in a moon's single phase to a trickle of meltwater.

I live in its aftermath--till, eskers, erratics, cirques, exposed bedrock.

Moss darkens the far side of a granite boulder. Pines.
Then the valley fills with hardwood forest, which burns and grows again,
Which burns and grows again, which burns and grows again.

[Eric Pankey, 'Prayer', from Trace]