On a winter day I'm walking in the woods,
I'm walking with the trees;
their story-telling leaves beneath me.
How old, I often wonder,
Would one need to be
to read the dreams of trees?
Perhaps that's what we see
when we eventually leave
our livelihoods behind us,
and stumble in the woods
until our memories find us.
Dec 18, 2019
Dec 18, 2019 at 6:56 AM UTC
On a winter day I'm walking in the woods,
I'm walking with the trees;
their story-telling leaves beneath me.
How old, I often wonder,
Would one need to be
to read the dreams of trees?
Perhaps that's what we see
when we eventually leave
our livelihoods behind us,
and stumble in the woods
until our memories find us.
