Living

From my window I can see
Living trees
Dew glistening on the leaves, dripping
Like dark blood welling from an ancient wound
Spilling life onto the damp ground below
Filling craters in the mud
Indentations, recording a past memory of a day gone by
The energy printed on the record of time
The trees know they will go on
Even when war and hatred clear the Earth
Of civilisation
The grass will still grow
Pushing through the pores of fresh loam
Like hair folicles through skin

  ¶ 9:14 PM