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

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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.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

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.