You want to be native?
You want to see
The utter futility
Reserved in all things?
In building houses?
In planting crops?
In putting stock in the buffalo?
In moving west
And making room peaceably
For others to come
And build their dreams.
And with their square white picket fences,
Cordon off the simple winding trails
That you and the rabbit followed
To good spring water back in the day?

Their gospel says this world and everything in it
Is reserved for fire,
And maybe, all human beings would do well
To look forward to the humility
And the futility
Of all things.

- jenn