What can I do with all this wood
Lost for a year to the Amazon River?
I squeeze a plank and feel the rainforest
Ooze through my fingers.
I look at the drowned wood
Through the red earth tones in the grain
And I am submerged in thought.
What can I do with lumber so wild
It warps at the touch of my hand.
Who can cut down a jungle rain?
Who can hammer nails into water?
Even to burn it might begin a river.

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