Seeing Trees

Soft leaves brush, a careful embrace.

They hold me, gently.

Speak to me, whisper secrets. 

The tall trees stare down, bark crinkled like the wrinkles of a smile.

As I sit I look…    

up      

up      

up

up

till my gaze can go no further.

How old are you? I ask

They reply with…

soft breezes that ruffle my hair, sighing. The faraway calls of birds and their laughs.

As I stand and walk away,

from this place,

this sacred place.

The wildflowers sway        

back and forth

I breathe deep, inhaling the scent of the bush, of life

These trees have seen everything. Fire, flood, creation, destruction... Everything.