What We Don't See

Look at those trees! There are millions of 'em
Where the cat treads lightly
Whatever we donít see is there

A helicopter whirls overhead; we are not alone
Strong winds coerce the leaves into speaking politely
In forests like these, the unseen future flourishes

Millions of species remain undiscovered
Time has its way of dealing with warriors
The trees are doubly upset with the news in the papers

This moment of life is safe from their weapons
Even the radio ends up talking in whispers
Your skin wakes my skin like a million tiny fingers

Eliot Katz, NYC
(written in Alberta, Canada)