Costa Coconuts

Green, the thing
to save a mountain
from slipping.

Coconuts planted
knee deep in the howling
monkey rain.

A roadside taller
than stars slanting
through trees.

Work crew, machete,
shovel, bag of seeds
the size of bowling balls.

Erosion, a soul disease,
the first day with no kneeling
washes out.

Gloves, peeled wet
from the forest,
stay folded in prayer.

One of the things
equal at the equator is
the root of love holding soil.