Towering Home

The towering trees high as a bird can fly, still breathing. 

I can’t climb that high, I can just dream. 

While staring up I think, this my home, I belong here in this tree, this forest. 

When it gets dark, I snuggle up to my Brother

and my Mother, then I snooze. 

When I wake and my eyes open,

I look up again and while holding eucalyptus,

Then you will really tell how high a bird can really fly. 

As I look up, I think trees keep us alive. 

Climate change, oh will you stop?

I don’t want to become extinct, 

I don’t want my species to go extinct.