The crow has landed, leaving indentations at the corner of eyes.
Pecking at the grey worms that protrude from our skull, which is
Lightly salted to balance wisdom with the sands of time...
Grand from what we've beget.
The trees have grown and produced fruit.
Great comes, when those seeds are in season.
Great Great, is when
Leaves refuse to grow, the sap has dried,
The roots doesn't ingest water,
Withering into overlooking the forest we've left behind,
And the nest as the birds sing...
A new tree
A new nest
A new song
All rise with a new day
As the Sun shines through our bare branches
Information is transferred through roots
Teaching the seedling how to stand tall in a storm
How to lean against the Sun to catch a mirrored image of self
And to be patient with life, for it will provide shade