grey and white clouds at sunset over the french countryside

Something New

how familiar with the vista
with the scenery
the view

will you be before you stop caring
about the clouds
and the hue

when you start to crave the feeling
of more comfortable socks
and shoes

and faraway breezes smell sweeter
because they smell like
something new

a small snail on dried branches

One

all of the numbers


eventually one


one could be less
when it’s all done


all of the ones


eventually none

yellow and green plants on a hill with white clouds and blue sky above

Choices

would you rather float away
or be tied at root to the ground all day

to see all the world but never attached
or or only see views from the place you were hatched

there’s a third option, but only for some
to leave and come back to where you came from

during the day to float in the sun
while rooted at night when you are done

a red and yellow leaf laying in dead grass

Decay

we want to be green
shiny and new
to stretch to the sun
covered in dew

but minutes to hours
and hours to days
some leaves are most beautiful
when they decay

Watching

I used to think she could see us
everyone and everything
all our lives and all our deaths
while we’re silently spinning

and maybe I could talk to her
and she would understand
about the lives and about the deaths
and help me form a plan

I’m fairly sure she’s watching
but maybe we’re too small to see
and instead just sees our roads and homes
lit up like a christmas tree

maybe all she can do is worry
quietly counting the days
hoping we don’t destroy it all
and send her on her way

a lady bug with rain drops on it

A Little Bit

it rains a little bit

and then again it suns

you’ll strain a little bit

before you fill your lungs

drink champagne a little bit

and have a little fun

if it stains a little bit

dye it when you’re done

Witness

Do you see it?
Do you see it?
Tell me you see it, too.

I don’t want to be the tree in the forest.
I don’t want to.

Listen.
Listen.
Tell me you hear it, too.

If you don’t hear the tree in the forest,
what do you do?

very small white flowers on green plant in the middle of gravel

Beggars

I didn’t choose to be planted here
but I can choose to grow

(if there’s water
if there’s light
if there’s warm
if there’s night)

I didn’t choose to this place of mind
but I can choose to think

I didn’t choose this boat or river
but I can choose to row

I haven’t seen the wine list
but I can choose to drink

I didn’t choose this life
and I can choose to go

I didn’t choose to be planted here
but I can choose to grow

a dark woods covered in leaves

Patience

is it always so dark in here
is it always so damp
is it always so difficult to find a lamp

or do you just have to wait
distract and ignore
’cause it’ll be different in a few hours more