green flows in its river-like
 meandering over every rock never unearthed
 every trough, every crest
  effortless —

to my disgust (or is it amazement?)
 spears appear from an unknown tribe
 chanting with Mother Earth
  (may I call you Nature?)

here and there
 tiny yellow faces —
 smiling since the last death
   when their ancestors were decapitated,

but green flows on
 oblivious, without a care (so it appears)
 it all seems cruel —
  yet they return — smiling.

thus, the cycle repeats.
 the green will vanish in time
 but it too, to regain its loss
  will return with vengeance,

and perhaps then
 I too may smile
 at its beauty —
  at least its resilience.

Ferrick Gray
© 7.15.25