Random word poetry

Just the way things are

1
Weep is what the clouds do,
what marble angels do,
what women do so often,
more often, it seems, than the clouds.

2
The wren in the honeysuckle tree
shouts at the robin, dip-diving,
deep into the tangle, bird spats,
even among the gentle folk.

3
Tree rings speak of things
we could never understand,
though we poke at them
like the entrails of sacrificial birds.

4
Listen to the silver-tongued water
sing the enduring story
that flows and flows,
ripening as it reaches the sea.

5
Sometimes we tell ourselves just living
is heroic. We wrap ourselves in togas,
wear laurel in our hair, when we
could reach out a hand instead.