The stretch to the sun, the stretch to the center of the earth, and the sheltering cool in between. Secret hidden places for treasures and firm holding branches—houses in the air. Feathery leaves trap mysteries in my mind and catapult them into the future.
Rows of stately soldiers guard country roads. Lonely isolates in flowering meadows stand moody, marking time in aloneness. Companion trees link arms with knowing glances, intimate breathings—sharing ground, sharing air.
Solid oaks, assertive with chests puffed, mock gale winds. Supple birches, evanescent green and whispery white, sway and flex with storms. Up on the mountain, pines all buffed up bristly, dare intrusion, while maples filled with dripping sweets flaunt green today and fire red with tomorrow’s frost.
Down by the river, willows droop with tears from countless sorrows, long sucking fingers in the dirt. Alders hover close, leaning to the water’s edge to catch…
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