Over the hills
The rivers drown the thick
Disgust that the forest holds
For the plains.
Why do the plains seem so
Neat and tidy
While the jealous forest
Twists more and more
The further in you go—
The hills laugh
At the obvious disdain.
If only the forest knew how
The plains felt, while flooding
All the time,
Maybe then the forest
Wouldn’t be so bitter
And the hills wouldn’t have
To keep the peace.