I wrote this while working on my memoir: The trees don’t care who you are The streams have been flowing for eternity Pay no attention to the animals and they won’t run away Lost things finding other lost things; together at play A stream turning into a pit filled with water The trees don’t care who you are Rocks piled high for jumping Other waters flowing into liminal hills Old stone bridges; no stream underneath Rivers with pylons for jumping; children at play The trees don’t care who you are Your body is just your body in the woods Parents grounding you to go outside Don’t come back until dark Bring a friend or find a friend The trees don’t care who you are