No body ever took me by the hand
and introduced me to the elders of our trees
to let me know their beauty,form and function
their biology,history,etymology.Fires had scarred
many and more before me.Loggers chopped,diced,sliced for IKEA.
Johnny Appleseed was nowhere to be seen.Poets waxed lyrical
on pages torn from leaves.Voices of trees -wind,birds,nests,sway,roots,deep
Their cerebellum as conscious as sap is blood,and arms branches
legs deep in our only earth.When i am wild,i feel like sapling,bending to change
When old,as slow as earth itself.I want us all to live.Trees before,seeds afterwards...
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