The tide brings in a panorama of the future, a tableau of aliens celebrating our last tree. The forest in my mind is talkative. The chilling woods of my childhood beckons. Sometimes I walk away from my softened body, and float my personality like a pet balloon among the piercing stars. But on the shore of the land my great great great great great grandma tamed, an image of a metallic future of sleeping earth and invaded empathy.
Miniature Moon 