He told me it’s his and showed me in print
The title, signed, with a golden seal’s glint.
Then a gust tore the paper away from his hand.
It fluttered, a leaf on the wind, to land
On the soft forest floor, where it nourished the trees
And surrendered its words to the voice of the breeze.
“Who owns the forest?” I asked of the sky.
“All and none,” came a whispered reply.
The idea for this poem came when I was watching a video that mentioned someone owning a forest. While I realize this probably isn't all that uncommon, it struck me as odd. I know some may not agree with this way of thinking, but I have trouble seeing a forest as simply property to own, with all of its life and complex, interconnected processes that defy and surpass our control. Its cycles contribute to the lives of all - human, animal, plant - so all have a stake in its continued thriving, and none can stake an individual claim.
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