the tree gives me mangos
I thumb them open slow
over the kitchen sink
thank the land for this medicine
pray to the dusty sun
and the coming mist
I am too sad today to bear witness
to the shifting of seasons
to the new leaves unfurling
instead, I mourn what was
eucalypt trees once tall lined my street
the bay clear and cobalt
free land not cement smothered
the sky is now not golden
but grey blurred
I watch the changing of it all
through the cobwebbed kitchen window