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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,

wind-ravished,

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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