Tree Dreaming

December 23, 2017

I swallowed a               

seed last night            

and dreamed            

I planted myself            

in a sea of loam            

sometime before            

the periwinkle dawn.            


The awful ecstasy of         

cracking open,         

stretched taut between    

dark earth embrace and    

a crown of stars circling.           


Time no longer

measured in clock ticks

but by arrival of a

glut of blossoms,

plump fruit hanging low,


followed by

death’s jeweled spectacle,


branches naked,

shadowed silhouette

in the feeble winter sun.


Let me linger here

with delights of

the grey squirrel’s

soft burrowing into

my body, all breath and fur,

a murmuration of starlings

filling my limbs with music,

chorus of wild irises’ golden

tongues wagging at my feet,

or the pleasures of

being rain-soaked

on a summer afternoon.


Let me sleep

a while longer.


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