Regression

From the canopy of the trees,

To the ground down below,

I’m a garden filled with parsley, peas, and pears,

Providing for those who take the time, and care.

Unripe fruit falls to the ground, left to fester,

Mold on the peels, returning them to the ground.

A beautiful tragedy.

Winding down a river,

Winding down, winding away,

Bringing poison from a pipe,

Left oxidized by its purpose.

I’m emerald light spilling from a window,

A Christmas tree illuminating the snowy, silent lawn.

I’m a luna moth emerging from its crackling chrysalis,

My jade wings spread wide for the leap from the branch.

A snake sheds its skin within a rocky crevasse,

Emerging anew in the dark,

Hungering for its next meal.

From the canopy of the trees,

To the ground down below–

Everything falls,

Everything returns.