The smell of pine lingers on my skin,
long after leaving the comfort of the canopy.
Sap clings to every surface carrying the memories
of winters bitter cold and blindingly dark,
of summers full of sun and song,
of the warmth bubbling up from the earth.

I sought the bright blue sky above the canopy,
but I've found the story of an ancient tree.
Memories well up of a past life,
of a very simple origin seed,
of decades waiting for my time,
of the glorious freedom of light.