Seated in his rocking chair beneath the milky sky
Contemplating, concentrating, ignoring passersby
He wonders what the trees discuss, the lies they tell
The truths they hug near and dear to their branched hearts
Awaiting liberation.
Standing side by side they wait in dense and purple silence
Stretching their limbs ever so far in efforts to touch his mind
His withered, aching mind
That only the wisdom in their leaves and blossoms can alleviate
How they long to speak to him through whispers on the wind
How their grandest pleasure would be a tongue of bark
To relay the message
But how great an obstacle She poses for this wish
They scream and shrivel, needing a means of communication
Their roots flex and thunder to rumble the soil beneath his feet
He creaks his seat forward ever so slightly, hearing the faintest sound,
Of a creature wailing in helpless desperation,
But he knows it must only just be
Another fanciful trick of the mind.