Cinnamon-Red

　　Even the earth, and all things that are upon the face of it& all the planets which move in their regular form do witness that there is a Supreme Creator

　　Earth knows something we don`t.

　　She smiles, even through the plum bruises

　　and battered thrum of worn bones.

　　When I came back, the lakes all

　　parted like the Red Sea, the gardens all

　　towered like sweet Eden.

　　Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

　　Nothing has changed—the royal redwoods

　　still crown the dappled back of California

　　and the waterfalls still follow the soft curve

　　of gravity. The birds still clip the clouds

　　and the deer still valiantly cross enemy lines.

　　The sunflowers still tilt towards the shine

　　and the butterflies still fly marathons.

　　The dogs still wink with their doe eyes

　　and the felines still prowl the garden fence.

　　The sun still glares over my phone screen

　　and wakens my skin.

　　I suppose I am the only difference.

　　Maybe we didn`t fall out of Eden,

　　but out of touch with the green

　　gods of living.

　　Kindness, she murmurs, an apple

　　hanging from a thousand different

　　family trees. Take a bite. Share.