Hidden high
in my tree

I watch as morning
creates itself.

The simple miracle of light
erasing night.

From my topmost branches
I live the tree's life.

Look down upon the humans

wondering where & how
I have gone.

Through my window of leaves
sunlight stains my face.

The wind whispers
itself to me.

In a big blue ocean
of summer sky

I call to the kestrel
in Father Hopkins' tongue.

It shrugs off the words
remains untouched

by language

living in an other
dimension to me

hewn from
silence & stillness.

My heart longing to be
this wild...this free.

My uncle's voice
calling me...calling me

back to this all
too human world.

I leave my life as a tree
the wanting to be this bird

return to being
9 year old me.

My uncle's laughter
tossing my mop of curls.

"Thought we'd lost you there
...for a moment!"