Log | HiroBoga.com

When I die, I want to be this log–
a nursery for green and growing things.

Small trees spring from my body–
shy, exuberant, leaping towards sunshine.

This must be how the Earth feels
about people, grasses, whales–

all us green and growing things
rooted in her belly.

Until that day, that final fall
I’ll practice being the Earth.

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