taking sides

While the scrunching shoes converse with the pavement
the trees send simple messages down below,
telling the patient earth of all treading upon her back.

Some keep walking by too quickly –
the cold sculpting their breaths
into fluid artwork that attacks passers-by.

Then come the ones (the trees seem to say)
who want to wait and make amends,
with their tiny fingers digging into their sleeping mother
taking pieces of flesh to sleep with that night.

A stir beneath the sheets
and the sky knows
one day they won’t matter:
the ones who cared and the ones who tried.
The patient soil takes all that comes her way,
unlearned in the way of prayers.