I walk among trees.
The conversations of their falling leaves.
A little breeze moves among them casually.
I think of how long they’ve been here,
and their favorite stories.
They know where every branch is,
mindful of every root hair and what it touches.
Under grey sky, not really cold yet,
they stand in faithfulness.
Little birds work up and down their limbs,
and sometimes sing.
Like my soul, they know things
they don’t need to tell me.
But we both like it
when I walk beneath them.
as an occluded front of words
passes by overhead
and out to sea.
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