“Trees” (Rumi)

Spring, and no one can be still, with all the messages coming through.

We walk outside as though going to meet visitors, wild roses, trilliums by the water.

A tight knot loosens. Something that died in December

lifts a head out, and opens.

Trees, the tribe gathers. Who has a chance against such an elegant assemblage?

Before this power, human beings are chives to be chopped, gnats to be waved away.

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