tree person
The rocks and the earth they speak, in
a voice as quiet as a windless night.
The water and the wind call out,
beckoning me to become like them.

Walking in the grass with bare feet
my toes press into the dirt and grow
down in the ground like roots.

I stretch out my hands and branches
and leaves sprout from my fingers
and I become a growing, living thing
of the earth. I am.

I become beauty and love and give
these things to the longing world
and birds alight on my limbs.


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