Now I can see: even the trees
are tired: they are bones bent forward


in a skin of wind, leaning in
osteoporosis, reaching


for a little more than any
oxygen can give: when living


is in season, they can live;
but living is no reason


to continue: everything begins:
and everything is desperate


to extend: and everything is
insufficient in the end:


and everything is ending:
Now I can see: even the trees

Malachi Black

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