from here the forest grows
upon the shoulder of Mother herself,
drips tears
tangy drops of
where
sweet  saps of evergreens
lichen takes a mossy sip
lakes full of
whorls of drops
fall down every cheek
might every tree or urchin
drown?
There in yesterdays
full grown tomorrows,
leaks
through to those who need.
Fronds delight in
completely
the tears
roses bloom, so
I cry, passionate.