In the trees
It is cold now
The wind creeps up and a chill trickles down my spin
The trees moan with the wind
I sink down to the soil
Laying down and shoving my fingers into the earth
They stretch and twist, flesh become plant
Not fingers but roots
Green shoots growing out of my body
Eyes turned towards the sky
Moon painting my face with pale light
A stunning realisation as I hear without ears
The trees do not moan, they sing
The wind sings
The earth hums with life
This is what I dreamed of
This is all I could ever need