I long for earthen forests, deep
And steeped in mystery
The branches curving overhead
Are all I want to see

I want to be the soil, rich,
In which you sink your roots.
The dark, safe place from which you rise
And send forth budding shoots.

I want to keep you grounded, safe,
When high winds bow your peak.
I want to be the gentle place
You fall when you grow weak.

I want to be the canvas which
In fall you toss your paint.
Cover me in golden leaves
That flutter down like rain.