Thread: The Tree

The Tree

Tiny leaves
with creases.
Yellow kissing green,
holding hands, touching soil.
You might make roots here. Tangled up.
Every piece, gathering water. Sectioning good earth.
You are elastic. Making bark. Branches that bring rain.
Comfort in your shadows. Dancing inside your sun-patterns.
I draw lines between prickly grass and circles around your trunk; stay

safe.

My skin is aging. Your texture makes my veins expand. Burning holes.
Sap is dripping. My tongue aches. Spread a drop, a shield on my lips.
Strong. Gnarled. Branches that move. Make beds for my body.
Rolling leaves between my fingers. Your parts on my parts.
Paths are weaving on my back. Branded by bark. Every place you touched me

ignited.

To the dirt. Ash on my face. Grass is black and
dead. Consumption starts. I throw the ashes to
find water. I know you have it. The
glow. Charred leaves falling, break-
ing like bubbles. Dry ground this
time. Pieces. Just pieces.
I come to sit on a

stump.

Great progression and storytelling in images - I can see it all growing before me - great work!