A sensible time when helicopters fall from trees
Carrying seeds far away, but not too far
Indefensible times when dropped facades reveal ghosts
Burying people under their own internal canopies

A hollow in the center of the woods
My feelings rest in relative safety within
The eye of a troubled ethereal hurricane
Made of trees, and shadows, and whispers

Down at the bottom, where rain hardly reaches
Nothing grows from under piles of decay
I wait for strong winds or fire, or both
To come and destroy the canvas so I can create

The day you realize all plants are cannibals
Is the day you realize that life is a cannibal
Consuming all it creates with appetite
Going back for seconds because it’s not enough