
The earth’s infantry,
defends homes and livelihoods:
rows of native trees.

The earth’s infantry,
defends homes and livelihoods:
rows of native trees.

Tip of a tree branch—
broken nail hangs from the sky:
half-moon spectacle.

Autumn to winter—
grim reaper rattled the door,
deciduous trees.

Outside my window
a canvas sits awaiting
setting of the sun