"a logger slides south a pole and immediately commences to reward those that have cut down a soul. they must also have kilns. with chimneys that exhaust moments spent inside a closed wall. a place that hosts dreams. sleeping quarters. this is a house full of sounds that beam. the crackling voice of heat. wood suffering, gathering, smoldering all that it sees. kilns laid with bricks mate to reproduce coal. santa claws. grappling at every seed, mining, struggling with the identity of its source. solomon's flaws. wanting to reap every corner of a house built, missing a floor. the bottomless pit that engulfs all. a plant. ignorance forces this nomad to attempt and make more land by separating a tree from its earth. akin laws from art. fairy tales used to control a farmer's mental girth. but She keeps his scrolls. verbiage of every fertile hole. this is the man that can shepherd his animals without leaving home. all the while the logger, the nomad, is busy with his ho ho howl.'
mitishamba ~ the true shepherd has plants
'green, i am.'