Up the peeling bark we go
down again, we all do fall
fast or slow, we grow or forego
climb up again we make the crawl
some in sight, others not
saving face behind the wall
the fair-and-square,
or the lion's share
that's all we bring
to the town square.
the humming bee
—it does the work
commits to place,
with no big fuss
it finds its way
it takes its space
builds its strength,
with watchful eye
stands tall and high
the sentient elephant
—under velvety ears
cares with trunk
and mourns its love
rumble, rumble goes its feet
spreading the word
so others don't fall
in the superheat
of the race to all
stir the pot, add the salt
—scramble, scramble
through the sweet amble,
of no return
—scramble, scramble
no time to fall,
though fall you must
loving hands lift you up,
holding you high against the tide
hum, hum
memory serves
rumble, rumble
the call was heard
—like the power of wind
gently whispering you through
a dark yet moonlit night.