by Jadyn Marshall
Nature,
In all honesty
I’d trade all I see,
My whole legacy,
For a dead pine tree.
I’d settle for a land
That can expand, boughs fanned,
In the cup of your hand,
In a wood made of sand.
A tree can be dead in the ground
Yet stand astute, renowned, crown browned,
Trunk round, roots found, crying around.
I’d hate a desert,
A small spurt of dirt
On a flirt’s hurt skirt
I don’t want to move forward
Abandoned and untoward
Clearing a path with a sword.
I’m scared to freeze a breeze
That can tease seas with ease,
And sneeze when bumbling bees
Wheeze on weak insect knees.
I’d like sap
That can trap
Chaps in naps,
Bark that claps
Every rap
On the map.
I want to grow tall
Long before I fall,
Mark wood with my scrawl
Before curtain call.
I hope to live past
The mast of a cast,
Want to be aghast
And held much too fast
At the very last.
I don’t want to grow long
With a heavy bird’s song,
Too headstrong to belong.
I’m afraid of ambitions:
Those suspicions on missions
Please, please give me morticians
Don’t petition magicians.
You’ve heard how I’ve prayed,
Seen plants laid, manmade,
Smelled first aid gore stayed,
Launched crusades, grenades,
Red brocade cascades.
And now I have bayed
A chance to be made
As a tree, unswayed
Shading in a glade
Eventually grayed.
Sincerely,
A Leaf
