I’ve been coming home for months.
I am so tired of the doing of it wrong.
There is the wind
and there are the trees
Which is it
we are talking about?
I blow hard, I lose leaves,
—the symbiotic tree tops, the storms
strumming branches, and arms
I blew hard, I lost leaves,
but I am rooted in the soil of the truth
and not the hydroponics of belief.
What I see and what I see
of you, this will do for truth; the
temperature today, in the raindrop
or the shadow, not in what is forecast for tomorrow.