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May 27, 2025
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I touch my hand to another’s skin,
a weathered bark that draws me in.
these living tomes of years, of strain,
of sunlight, cold, and nature’s reign.
they do not speak in words I know,
I feel them through the sways of bough.
their leaves drift loose from time, erases,
while mossy grins grow on ancient faces.
above, the Eastern Whipbirds cry,
dappling pointed songs across the sky.
each note held close by forest’s floor,
sung to trees who’ve heard before.
as I stand in their calming shade,
I think of homes the branches made.
of critters curled in roots below,
and owls who watch the moonlight glow.
these pillars who hold more life than me,
they’ve watched us all pass silently.
just to be among these sacred things,
I sense my name within their rings.
May 31, 2025
EVERYONE NEEDS TO KNOW ABOUT THE MYCELIAL NETWORK AND THE MOTHER TREE!!!!!!
May 28, 2025
