Poezja

Sitting on the hill, 
nestled against the moon, 
talking to stars. 
 
You love a woodpecker. 
What a stupid thing. 
A panther dies of thirst. 
 
A tall fern unfurls 
the frond, to catch 
a crested iguana. 
 
In deep blue water 
seventeen summers 
drowned, in one go. 
 
A sapsucker goes 
on, making holes, 
in my psyche. 
 
A tree will wait 
for the summer to end. 
Then it will tow the rain.