Repetitions on Earth and Sky

Trees offended the flatness, the bled,
so we plucked them out, and fed
the earth with golden grasses;
fields of grain, full of forest ghosts.

Furious, the sky still has fits
of anger, while the fields laugh
(their spirited murmuring, calling:
“remember, recall, forgetful expanse”).

The earth has always kept its ghosts,
history wrapped in memory, under the flesh
of the now, but the sky is impassive
to change, in its endless renewal.

Alzheimic, it forgets what it just spoke,
repeats it thunderously, forgets
how your conversation began, weeps
without understanding why.