While walking through Big Trees State Park with Jason yesterday, a poem I wrote in 2006 or 2007 kept popping into my head, but I could only remember the first sentence. So I decided to dig it out and post it.
Trees
For those of us who seek out
bigger windows, wide open fields
and mountains so large
you can reach out and touch them:
do we become trees?
Perhaps our last breath
shifts the wind into the leaves
and our mark is left in the incessant sway
destined to forever move the earth.
For those of us who lean towards silence
in an effort to calm our individual storms,
and turn our faces upwards,
to face the great wide open-
and breathe:
maybe we become trees.
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