Regrets only
raise the lower
tree line equally. Bottom
leaves hidden from sunlight, they die 

at the same rate. If I succeed
in not showing up
for another family pageant to appear
before you a doom 

eager stranger mouthing
simple questions
about your coniferous forest,
I just might dig up my balance 

beam in this black dirt.
Just might please the wind
to respond through your branches overnight.