The ancient brooding trees,
once more beginning to bud.
Another year wrapped around themselves
as they watch over all our lives
as brief moments disappearing
before they even notice we live.
And then we are gone, before
they learn or remember our names,
while these hillsides don’t notice us
or the trees, and our brief existences.
Meanwhile, up in the far skies beyond,
the stars continue their oblivious dances.