The sun is in her eyes as she glides
through the trees, her hair tangled
with ocean, and she is extraordinary.
Looking at her, I am stranded
in that musical way, only a leaf
floating on a wide, wide river.
She swims beneath.
Miles away, I hear the winds reciting
her name, and even in September, she is a summer
watching the rains appear, reappear,
birds flocking in confusion.
I close my eyes and line the pages
with constellations, see the stars murmuring
on her forehead. Gold glimmers
in front of her eyes, my eyes,
and I am no one, nowhere.

There’s an ocean, collected on the other side of the world.
Away from those that taught her destruction.

Learning from the land what it feels like to sink.
What else can she do but weep?
and slowly flood as we sleep...

The shiny blade cuts
Running with the blood of the forest
We must have trees for books
To pass on knowledge
And political ethics.

So we destroy the world
Telling everybody how bad it is
To destroy the world.

As the sun raises
Over the cherunbol
Remains
A lone smoke stack
Stands to greet the sun
On this autumn day.

As the fire burns mercilessly
I am saddend that
My favorite forest is dying
Along with
The tarantulas
I can hear the screaming for help
This reminds me of a day I lost another beloved
Forest behind my house.