Nature is a woman standing outside
An open window blowing the breeze through.
Do you think her life does not extended through
The screen? Do you think she is just broken
Off to begin again on the next line
Sterilized by your four walls? But you know
She will come through and when she does, will she
Come upon her cart with rake to gather
The dead like so many leaves of fall to
Leave the few to escape the tines or with
A broom to sweep them all like dust gathered
On the floor of an empty tomb. You know
Life brings plague on the wind and none escape
Life alive. But you want to be the first.