Forbearance

I won't ask why the land woke up barren
after a season of suns.

About silence, the poignant rustle
spreading sadness in the air.

The flowers
that were not picked last night
the moon
that didn't reflect tufts of shine
from thousands of miles.

About the smirks
that have no appetite;
and all the forced smiles.

I won't ask,
but I care.