I thought I saw you smile
beneath the face mask of cottony clouds
hovering just below your scarred forehead.
The distance made your tall trees
dark green and miniature
but their caring crowns I'm sure
were waving hellos to me -
"Come and visit us beshie!"

Yes Best Friend! To go up and see you
has been a desire so ardent
It's been a long, long while . . .
To touch the earth, to be kissed by the sun,
to be blessed by drizzle or dew
or even the sweet *** of plant lice
they all are old friends, always good as new.

When cicadas serenade, as birds played their fiddles
and crickets chirp and little tree frogs tweet,
the butterflies do their pirouettes and pax de deus
some even skip or strut to chorus lines of blue,
and all skinks silently watch in awe.

The fallen leaves are now a thick carpet.
The tiger leeches miss their regular blood donors.
The big-jawed ants patrol the trails but see no intruders,
as termite workers and roaches do their routines
among the fallen logs. Life goes on there.

I wish I could bathe my spirit again
in your clean, virus-free air.