I went outside
and left behind
the squawking squares
and alien boxes –
unnatural reminders
of our unnatural
domestication.
I presented my knots
to the sycamore trunks
and magnolia buds
who absorbed my petty wars
like oxygen.
I felt the feather touch
of wings grace my cheek.
I heard the wise ones speak:
It can’t be fixed.
It’s beyond repair.
Just be here, now.
Bear witness how
you flail and fail
despite your best intentions.
Humanity is choosing.
And notice
how we thrive still
although we were planted here
against our will
in foreign soil.
© S. Rinderle, July 2026
