No musk scented air,
Mango trees stand sans flowers;
Angry climate speaks!

By AMOY

Leaves on the tree falling down to my feet..
Lay and sleep…... I say for you will  return to Mother earth..
You 'll see ……
You'll  meet many friends along the way...
Little feet, tiny feet, Mr. worm, Mr. Squirrel and old lady Wind...ohh...She's a Swirl!..
have fun  I say, for the rain will be here soon and days will still be bright til night falls and old man snow stirs ... brrrrr...brrrrr.. sending tiny little snow flakes our way ahhh ...ahhh....mother earth breaths again

Lost bearing, a bird,
Slams against window pane;
Nature’s guards forced down?

They can’t make out the stars
on this moonless night,
though the torn curtains lay
stripped of willful ignorance.
They can’t see the green left in the stalk
of a dying marigold bloom
scattered on the floor between
shards of a broken vase.

It’s hard to find the seeds after
Autumn’s breath stills the dirt,
the day is night-taken and the
undying questions tiptoe around
the tapestry laid out, unbelonging
from the crushing grief it has
woven into the well cared thread.

The lavender and ginger tea steam
whispers upward, toward the popcorn ceiling
where the moonstruck wander in
tight knit culminations, songbirds floating around,
wilting feathers dropping as stones fall down
in unrelenting storms of chaotic speeches.

Tap tap tap on the fifth story window
hollering up from the snow frozen grass roots,
incoherent language sauntering around the table
at thanksgiving dinner, dim faces
stretched out alongside the turkey.

Sky looks deserted,
The army of clouds retreated;
Calamitous moves!

as you wait for the dust to clear
from where your house fell,
fires use its bones as kindling
and bring clouds of dry lightning,
gunshots in the distance,
carbon fogs, nuclear shadows,
storms up to your knees,

and yet you wait

The wind is full of shallow nothings
Drought, fire, vermin, climate, poverty
Rustling the leaves with a gossip
Deep roots will never hear