And Thought the Air Must Rush as Fresh

If there’s no such thing as luck
How are you here? If there is

No such thing as fate, how do
You know it? I don’t. I doubt.

Doubt is my own brand of faith.
I trust it when all else fails.

When I was a child, I thought
My soul had a role, the world

Was a stage or court for it,
And the sky leaned close to watch.

I watched the dark firs too long.
They stretched and stretched all their lives

But fell to saws, fell to storms,
And sank their seeds in the ground.

You know what I mean. The trees
Keep their talk to roots in dirt

And those sharp scents on the breeze.
They hunt their light, not their stars.

If there’s such a thing as luck
What is it? Why’d it fall here?