trees are naked spirits
baring all their wounds
the bends and kinks of trunk and branch
tracing a lifepath, visible all at once
a piece of a tree
can grow into a complete new tree
an entire soul in a slender green sprig
patient, they breathe with the seasons
expanding when it is warm
and contracting when it is cold
in timelapse, plants follow the sun
in little circles, never assuming they know
but searching always for the light
they seem to reach for the heavens
but trees are at rest, comfortable
not straining but oriented to the sky
invisibly rooted deep into the earth
branches of a different sort, seeking water
seeking nourishment from the dead
our souls are like the trees
shaped by our experiences
searching for the light
our hard bark
gives way to fresh shoots
the force of life pushing, always pushing
copying, always copying
echoes like a flame to dry tinder
or one leaf grown a thousand times
a flock of flowers
we wrap ourselves
in the past and future
in our ideas and what the world should be
and the trees stand naked
meeting reality
as it is