My limbs wrested, and extended, towards the heavens like young children’s hands on the first sunlit days of spring. The muted grays of winter fade, soon replaced by softer blues. I still remember the first time I caught wind of you, your back against my trunk and it lent me your lungs. I learned to breathe like you too, in shy and quiet silences while trying not to shake- the world but darling you came into mine, trembling fault lines like an earthquake reading poetry and upended my roots. I was seduced by you and there was nothing you did, or could do that would untie this bind we shared our bodies intertwined, ancient wood and woman tethered together by the invisible pleasure of one another’s company. You spoke to me with feathers and kissed me with subtle gestures while I shade you from the sun. I had never known such a word but on that summer I called it love and I believed it to be true until the day you did not come. The earth and soil from which I sow has slowly grown into a prison atop this grassy knoll. I have become a tree with the memories of a man.