If you remember, I love trees, and I seem to have an unusual sensitivity/affinity for them. (The evidence is also in the picture dominating the upper portion of this page.) Somehow, they speak to me, to a place deep inside me where the vibrations of creation still linger from a time when we were one with the things of the earth. The following is a poem I wrote about wanting to be a tree.
I want to be
A tree
Just stand in one place and
Shoot roots into the ground
My brown hair grow
Thick, climbing, twisting
Close my eyes and
Awake a tall, strong oak
Or a wispy, whispering
Weeping willow
Feel the water soaking, seeping
Deep into my waiting veins
Furl out leaves of
Velvet silver
Breathe with the breeze
Sigh with the wind
Live
Grow
How would it be to be a tree, indeed? To live for ages, and to witness so many things come and go. To have sap instead of blood, and to live life at a glacial pace. Trees are rather amazing lifeforms.
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