What The Trees Say

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Looking but rarely seeing

hearing but rarely listening

Touching but rarely feeling

Smelling but rarely sniffing

Eating my fruit but rarely truly tasting

Living but rarely celebrating

Dying but rarely mourned

Born again but rarely truly born

Standing centuries but rarely asked about my past

Rooted deeply spreading through the grass

shedding bark and limb and branch

and yet continuing to climb

always available

always giving

always groaning

to be free



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