Friday, October 28, 2016

Hugging A Tree

The bark is rough against my face
My arms, too short, to wrap around
The girth of the god of this forest place,
Me, a few decades'-worth of meat
And fat, the tree has seen hundreds
Of seasons, through cold and heat,
Twisted by winds, it has grown
Into a giant, and I, embrace its life,
Both of us breathing, and alone...

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