I despised the trees, looming over me.
Their awkward shapes and uniformity,
Crafted by those bastards in authority.
I burned it all down,
Each and every tree,
I have no need for them,
Sure they served me some,
Gave me food and shelter,
But they destroyed by passion and
Knocked my path of kilter.
So I burned it to the ground,
In a flurry of intense heat.
But the fertile soil that is me.
Then the rains poured,
And I cast my seeds,
Handfuls of everything,
Scattered into the mud to sink,
The birds came and gobbled their fill,
And grubs and bugs continued their will,
But soon I know this,
When the warming sun greets us all with its kiss,
I'll see saplings and flower buds,
Creepers and vines,
An eternal array of beauty divine.
So as I sit wet through,
And alone in the cold,
I feel content and at peace,
In my forest to be.
Rowan Blair Colver