Ill Never Be the Same

Me and Tree
A tree fell in the forest and it didnt make a sound. I heard it and a friend found. On her side with trunk aground, she watches neighbors in bloom; and, sad, my friend, starts to fume. With her branches stuck in muck, Tree grimaces on the past, and, wishes her life could last. Tree trusted human closeness, and, gave us presence did she -but take advantage did we Shes black where her bark once was, her mood darkens, thus exposed -to bitterness predisposed Should have drunk more for her roots, could have basked more for her leaves, and for uncaught wind she grieves. Tree gave shade, fruit, and lumber, but now, lay splayed and alone. She moans an exploited groan. Stumped and no longer useful, Tree has been left abandoned neglected and forsakened Her limbs mangled and twisted, Tree lets go for the moment, embracing deaths graced movement. Trees needs, we should consider. We must stop the tree mugging, and get on with tree-hugging. Too late, I am with Tree, now, and sitting and listening -finally, present being.

May 31, 2011