The Truth

 

How does the bee thank

The flower for the nectar

That keeps it alive? 

Or

The tree thank the water

That lends another ring

Around the trunk? 

No

Branches can hug bliss

Despite eternal gratitude

How does the beaver tell

His mate, "come, my love,

And we'll grow old as the river rushes by us"?

A wolf can only howl

A mournful plea to say

"Please stay, I fear

There will be no other

For me in this life."

The truth is that I too

Am only wet noise

I need your arms

To keep me dry