Photosynthesis: Tree stars

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.