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dry spell in a forest

you say your mind is like a tree house
but what of the tree?
will the woodpecker-housing trunk hold up
your ever-growing hideaway?
will the overactive root
keep winter from coming?

[why is the obvious so invisible
and when pointed at, it offends?]

you say your soul is invisible
but we see the fireflies in it
and what are the biting wasps?
will they keep the storm from coming
or are they bringing it down on us?
isn't the forest battered enough?

when you see the rain rising from the ground
and going up, back to where it came from
because of the iron will of a haystack
wanting to prolong its hour
even an old, faded owl
will cry bloody tears of empathy
for people’s souls
so inevitably dying

the trees know the rain
each raindrop by its name

the trees know
how good things do not come to those
who stall things for others
for pushers and pullers
against the currents

math is a mind of Life
one cannot get
what one deprives another of

no matter what you do
in your tree house
do not let the rain to be stopped
and what must rot let it rot

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