Draw from me
This life
Which hardly begs
To question
What root
Is your intention
And determines
Fate in hand

Yet carries
Precious flow
Like grace through drops
Cascading
Down bark
So parched when waiting
For rain
Such presence makes –

Your moisture
Seeding earth
With feeling
Harsh but fickle
While syrup
Bleeds off timber
Where agony
Tastes as sweet

Forgetting
Pleasure hurts
Off branches
Thick with bristles
Obscuring suns
Above me
From gifts
Of precious waste,

Falling
Oddly near
As their fruit
Of daily beatings
Is a joy
Called being punished
Based on
Weather’s mood

For I merely
Long to keep
This truth
Which towers demons
High as dreams
Relentless
Weeping loves
Once lost

Showering
Dangerous lies
Upon
Our seasons missing
Each day
We dare to blossom
As long as trees
Can stand.

– J. Pigno