islands began to sink
yesterday

(it was in fact a few years ago
you only noticed yesterday)

oak trees are spotting pink
in open places on their bark

half the moths
are immigrants

half the toads
are emigrants

mostly all the bees
are genocided

listen to the
rain’s complaint:

this is not
soil
I recognize

and the wind’s confusion:

whose hair is this
so rough and sparse

what’s to be done?

dear humans:

you are
ours too so as family
you are requested to stop calling
hurricanes twisters and floods (oh my)
“natural disasters”

the preferred term
from this side
is

“affirmations”