fragile umbrellas are strewn
across the cluttered forest floor,
nourishing strong connections
from all over the world.
their gills are loaded weapons
that fire spores into the air
at the speed of light.
if we blink, we miss it -
and the umbrellas multiply.

when the ocean resides in the cavity of my chest / and the world freezes over / icicles bare their teeth as their menacing shadows creep closer to my sternum / and I choke on frigid air.
he carefully wraps my heart in a blanket / then collects sun rays between his lips / bestowing them onto my heart with warm kisses.
the icicles melt away / and I bask in the sun.

dew rests on sheer leaves
as saplings lilt in the wind  
and I follow suit.

I am forged in a ceramic kiln,
and the sweltering heat embrittles me.
their withering stares set the kiln ablaze,
expecting me to stay rigid and brittle.
I attempted to constrict and be good,
but the fire slowly cracked me.  
the heat still scorches my pieces,
but each piece inches closer
to the outskirts of the kiln
so I can find the sticky glue
and put myself back together.

their fingers twist around strings
that are tethered to firm balloons.
whenever we see them,
they fly above everyone else,
their taunts trailing behind them.
but when their balloons deflate,
they crash into the rocky earth,
and their taunts are buried.
air always escapes.

ink melts through paper
during heat, cold, rain, and snow
to mark every heart.

flames raze the forest,
bringing it to its knees.
ashes line the ground,
fertilizing the charred soil.
the clouds mourn for the forest,
blessing the ground with its tears.
seeds of all sizes land,
and the sun wakes up to greet them.
a garden rises from the ashes.