Collecting bottles, tossing leftovers, taking out the garbage
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Little one, do you see how this thin tree grows in the shade
of its father? Don’t do that. Do you see how this trunk
turns around, always looking over its shoulder at the others?
That’s hard. Do you see this old woman hollowed by fire?
Do you see how this one bent down when young, then tried
to rise? Do you see these two weaving their branches?
Do you see this one lightning shattered who yearned an ending
into his mind? Do you see these four growing in a row, where an
old one fell? And this one, old enough for a lichen coat?
Little one, put your hand on this trunk green
in a lucky place of tall sun. Oh my little friend.