What we forget

Torched trees,

leafless and fuzzy,

with branches like

the cartoon hair

of a person

after an electric shock.

Raindrops perform

a balancing act,

clinging to the

ends of twigs,

so they look

like crystals,

knowing if they drop,

they join the apricot

and pumpkin

mush that cushions

the ground,

They will lose their


as the leaves do,

over time,

their sharp,

defined edges,


as they merge,

and become the



the trunks

that give birth

to their replacements.

We tread on it,

inserting the

individual contained

in the print of our feet,

into the ground beneath

which we call dirt 

and for a while we

forget that

we too will become

the earth.