The Earth Makes Art of Itself

Is the sky cutting shapes through the trees,

Or are the trees holding skies in between?

Nature makes art of itself without knowing,

Without regard for its counterparts or species.

But do we, as human man, make art for the attraction,

For others— to satisfy the ego?

Or do we make art in the action of returning to ourselves,

To our base nature, without knowing or regard for others?

Auld tree, when I see you I pause,

“You must know more than all, teach me.”

I hold an eager palm against your uneven flesh,

Then I understand, I can see without seeing,

I need to just be.