Forest Parable

Nature. I see Her go to sleep every night, only to awake every morning being less than what she was the night before.

seasons slip
between one another
time advances

I am aware of my mortality. I see it not only in myself but in others, in the world around me.

Acorns.
not enough this
year

Wounded by love, how do I stop the bleeding? Is the scar a reminder of my foolishness or merely a wrong turn?

Lovers spin
the best tales
at night

Have I given my children a dying world? What is to become of them when I’m gone?

letters:
an old shoebox;
unread