The feeling is like mushrooms.
That's the only way I can explain it,
but to sobers I say,
It's like being reminded of an old truth
you once learned, but forgot about
until recently.

You've wandered into the forest
taken an inviting path
And when you come to the tree
at which you usually glance,
acknowledge in passing,
You decide this time to stop and take in
its bark-bound beauty.

Tall, cylindrical like a leg
rough skin with feather hair,
the tree is still, like calm,
harmless.
Unable to resist, you reach out to touch it
feel the hard bark under your palms
the whisty brushes against the leaves
As the breeze makes movement
all around you, small rustles,
Nature at rest...
It is the same tree you've always passed,
but something has changed.

- Flashes of an old lover laughing
or pulling you into an embrace,
eating,
walking up to the car,
looking away -

You withdraw your hand from the bark
and use your eyes instead
to survey the trunk you thought
was shallow.
Though you are alone
it seems that something is aware of your presence,
not a threat to it,
not like a predator aware of its prey
or even visa versa;
But for some reason
you get the oddly familiar sensation that
This Tree
is looking back at you.

And indeed it is rational
to decide that you were in
a nostalgic mindset,
an imaginative contemplation
on such a natural force as
Momentum,
and you can wiggle free of the feeling
that way;
But you have to admit,
there is something about
the moment,
about the tree
and about the way you're almost finally
seeing each other
that seems...
intuitive.