What are you going to do with your life?
We questioned the newborn rabbits in their warm home of earth, black eyes glazed from first sun
What’s your plan?
We demanded of the crabapple tree as it granted its annual gift to the ground and stood stripped and silent of petal & blossom
What’s your timeline?
We inquired of the March lake being warmed into spring, its body cracking into life
What’s your 10 year goal?
We interviewed the colony of ants building and rebuilding their palatial sand homes into the fissures of suburban sidewalks
Are your goals measurable?
We argued with the slender, coiled tomato seedling who sang deep into its roots and turned its many faces to the sun
Time is money!
We explained to the river, who rolled onwards past the banks, stretching its long spine and yawning
Speak to me of your path!
We queried the hawk mid-flight who careened across the empty sky
A stitch in time saves nine!
We told the old bear, whose knees rang with pain as she sat on the bank of the river, maybe her last perch, who knew, she might never again feel the rush of cool water against her legs or even feel the rain, who after all knew only one thing: that she would be alive in this world until suddenly she wasn’t.