Trees breathing. Breathing trees, radiating life, welcoming.
Step slowly, rolling from heel to toe, silent levitations as I approach best
friends. Breathing slows to match the pulse of tree radiance; casual lifting
arms so fingertips can caress bark, stretch out to the smooth bark on one side,
and extend to stroke the rough and crackled bark on the other side.
Cool air whispers on skin and evening dew drops leap off the
wild grasses to runnel long pant legs. My soul heart sends out sapphire
sparkles, matching my trees, crafting layers of symphonic light. Shimmers
indigo weave a comforting shroud hiding me in friendly shadows. Closing eyes,
finger tips scarcely grazing gnarly bark, depth and breath entangle between
trees and soul.
Infinity pace, infinity slow, toes begin a slow rise, they
point, and the knee bends. Arms elevate through crisp oak scent air. Finger
tips embark on a journey into cobalt air, sparkies releasing, golden human soul
sparkies waltzing with silvery azure tree glow. Bending forward, inhaling deep
quietude, the first toe restores its step, allowing my other foot a dancing
opportunity, torso arcing, head dipping in oblation, in sacred response to
life. Meeting directly overhead, arms and finger tips fashion a heart. Eyes
opening, eyes wondering, the trees reflect with their limbs and branches,
myriad hearts, and I see.
I see. Tree lights spinning, yielding to gentle breezes,
then pausing. The gems of light are familiar. They resonate with memory. Eyes
closing. Head tilting back. Eyes opening, glimpsing night sky. There. And
there! Pegasus, glistening overhead—and also among the tall trees. The Seven Sisters,
the Pleiades, source of summer shooting stars, twinkling, almost winking at
Earth, above me, and near me between the dark trunks. Just above the horizon,
barely evident, Orion, the triplet of sparkles calling me home. As I gently
pivot on my back heel, there, hiding at the edge of a thicket, the tree stars
mirror Orion!
Entering the center of the glade, subtle music performs a
nimble melody, teasing my skin, my ears. Standing tranquil, silent runnings,
the soles of my feet intermingle with dirt. Outstretched arms tickle leaves
tenderly landing along my shoulders, my face.
The tree stars close about me. I hear their question. I
exult in the question. I discover my answer.
“Birch.”
And the tree stars answer.
