Meager diet of flimsy moon dust, ‘til
someone goes up there with a sharp hacksaw – 
and the forest grows again, kicking back 
in sun beams unleashed from tree tops. Blissful
rain reaches for the thirsty ground, spreading like 
a cloak against the banyan roots. The saw
is handed off. Wrinkled hands with hungry fingers
dig fiercely, reclaiming broken justice. 
I watch the forest amuse itself with
people. Cut handsomely in the lower
valley, the satin breeze lengthens and breathes,
pushing ruby apples to the forefront.

A million magnifying glasses set in
motion, edged with precious diamonds. At last.

1 Comment on “Relief

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