We long for what 

we had not 

A serene progression of thoughts

Intimacy with streams and clouds 

At home inside a cloak of wool

Once we did not graze on each other

Spiritually against everything 

Time was something you were born with, or not

In the middle of flowering, we found a deep freeze

Our staff was like the old hands of corn

And we moved inside a system that suffered but never died

The undeniable reality of land 

Makes me chew through life 

Living makes me spit it out