Some might say that the three sisters
weaving the threads of our existence
measuring out our tribulations
and cutting us loose to god knows where
have taken to knitting,
but I believe that this has been the year of pieces--
discarded and colorful like a Pompeiian mosaic.
dusty and thrilling, ancient and newfound
we have been shattered and glued and arranged
and it is not the stars, but ourselves that have been
lined up so that we can make sense
of something in the lot we have.

We have risen from dirt
To be stewards of earth
To account for all life
Free of value or worth

Evergreen in our growth
To divine suns of truth
Chlorophylling our minds
With a fountain of youth

Still losing ourselves
In an arboreality
Nurturing seeds
Of an elementality  

One of sequoias
Who weep with the willows
And make their leafbeds
Out of solid rock pillows

So spill your coal ash
In our wildest streams
You can't stop the flow
Of our lucid sea dreams

Repainting the blue
Iridescent with reefs
Transcending horizons
Of vision's motifs

Where Shamu think tanks
Dive deeper than whales
Exploring the depths
Of serpent shale scales

Who drill to our cores
As we quake with the force
Of Pompeiian eruptions
And wars of resource