willow me a tree of melancholy
softer than the rain and let it unfold
the bric-a-brac figurines in nature’s
whisper
each whisper a ghost peeling bark
of time in the language of a tree
until the whorls in the skin remember
a shadow that wasnt suppose to climb
but the tree unspools the moss
humming low through the air
holding its breath to willow a tree
softer than the rain and let it unfold









hello dearest Adagio this absolutely beautful trees are one of my favorite beings… they hid me in their branches when the adults on the ground were waging war with each other ❤️
Thank you, Brenda.