Sleeping With The Trees

While the trees
slept, someone gave them a soul.
Waking, their black branches wept
at the thunder. Rain
swelled the soil’s breast
heavy as hunger. The forest’s many mouths
began to suck. Long and deeply

lost, still wet from the rain, a man
came into this nursery
of ancient infants,
heard their branches coo
and gently cry. Out of the soft soil,
the lushness of death
rose and filled his nostrils. He breathed,
and breathed again,
spread his arms wide
and waited
until the end of fear.

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