Becoming A Tree
Roots dug deep into firm ground looking for water Leafless branches sway amid stars Stony bark lifeless to the touch It begins with a splinter in your hand the dull aches of night throbbing where once vigor kept muscles relaxed Arms out-stretched bend in the darkness and cold feet immovable by time like dew on grass that never fades away The slow fire finds fingers cracking bleeding sap and oozing regret as rivers of streams propel the magic forward Somewhere the hawk finds purchase— a shoulder, a foot buried in dirt, a backwards stare Things once of boredom now breed excitement The slow progress of life unfolds in an hour when legs like stumps support a torso Eyes like knots survey the land see children and snowfall and sunrise The arms ache no longer Life solidifies as we turn now to autumn