
Petals turned skyward,
please, sir, can I have some more,
plants ask after rain.

Petals turned skyward,
please, sir, can I have some more,
plants ask after rain.

Scarred, marred, and battered,
the earth nurtures ground cover;
swathes the pain in turn.

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.