Nameless, finding the
Only altar’s endless stairs
And facing forever.
Evermore we diminish,
Gliding into tomorrow,
Polishing rocks and just
Scattering the hot dust.
Fountain of green weeds
Of our eternal earth
Wither no crimson blood,
But cry droplets dry.
We meander weak, feeble,
Burnt feet thereabouts,
To yonder thrashing hilltop,
Mound of making buds,
Worshipping the bent streaks
Of thunder; we twiddle
Thumbs, waiting for rain,
Then bask in it gleefully
I was thinking how few
I was thinking how few people would take the time and trouble
you took in bringing the avocado trees out and then in..
how few people are sensitive to every being.. from divinity to each tree