My hand against a tree, the weight
of a thousand leaves. Carbon from air,
the illusion of oxygen hybrids, what
I lost overnight in the emerald forest.
Email or émail, outdoors at the Élyseé,
a sign in Deutsch: We want more.
At the dark edges an old story: a girl
with two cows, revolutionary fervor.
Each day a special moment, straw
on the barn floor, my horse aghast.
And, in the distance, two towers burning.