I’m jealous of the trees with their sways and no places to go
I’m jealous of her ears with holes that carry heavy with light
I’m jealous of their shameless healing
I’m jealous of first snuggles and first stair climbs
I’m jealous of the warm wind’s power and autonomy
I’m jealous of the new art on their skin and walls
I’m jealous of movement and soaring flight
I’m jealous of the pages he writes and fills with sentences that take people places
I’m jealous of places with plates of food
I’m jealous of being full and grateful after seeing the city from the highest elevator
I’m jealous of airy clothes and a brief encounter that doesn’t make me angry
I’m jealous of the vine, she’s finding her way wherever she wants
I’m jealous of the patience of mountains
I’m jealous of the rivers laughing at time
I’m jealous of what the desert knows
I’m jealous