An Ode To Nature

I miss nature, but I wonder if it misses me.
The trees, the dirt, the leaves.
Do they think of me?
 —
Do you know me,
remember,
or am I just another Eve?
 —
Trees
I hear them whisper
walking down city streets.
Dirt
under nails,
at my feet,
in scars,
on soles
which haven’t healed.
Leaves
now lay quiet
on the forest floor;
they are fast asleep.
Once memories,
now wishes,
made from trees.
AC

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