Rain On An Oak

It's raw on bark— Showing it how to feel. Leaves shudder from under the clouds, Seen at last. (All it wants to do now is Get through to hang up light.) I tore a limb. Veins spill, as green Masks fingers; now dead to a reason. (I thought of everything in my heart; the leaves have too many eyes on scars.) I'm undone by peltings on wood— Again, I want for all that's still good— (I am covered...) This forest; It grows without malice, Through and in Everything it touches.