Landscape
We are the twisted tree,
the weathered stone,
the boiling cloud,
the coiled slumbering snake.
Why do we still
consider ourselves separate?
We — tree, stone, cloud,
breeze, odour, light, spider,
grass, ant, wallaby,
snake and hominid —
are landscape.
We are kin.
Found poem. Extracted (with permission) from an
Instagram post by The Bent Broom, and shaped as a poem.
Sharing at Poets and Storytellers United's Writers' Pantry #29.
Instagram post by The Bent Broom, and shaped as a poem.
Sharing at Poets and Storytellers United's Writers' Pantry #29.