Let’s say adulthood starts when you’re 18
If so, I’ve been writing poems all my adult life
That’s fifty one years of scribbling incomprehensible notes
And in all that time
The trees were trying to tell me something
Last night walking in rain in downtown Helsinki
I wanted to tell them how sorry I am for never hearing
I whispered beside the old Swedish theater
Is it too late
To have a proto-prayer for the trees?
And the terrible dime store Santa Clauses everywhere…