When you see the forest, do you see the trees?
Do you see the branches swaying in the warm-cold
breeze?
A few odd souls planted those, a long, long time ago
All species that belonged here, and a chump in every hole.
The roots go deep and they go through the bodies wrapped in
burlap
One shot, one knifed, one hit by car, and one who had
his neck snapped.
They were all scum, these compost starters that decay below
And if you are unlucky, you will join them in the loam.
