The rain has started
with a quietness
so warm and calming
that the tree
throws its back
into the gentle wind
and feels the wetness
rushing down its bark.
It allows the drips to slip
through its branches
between bud
and newly formed leaf
soaking down
through the dusty dirt
surrounding its trunk
and flow deep
deep down
to the thirsty straws
of its roots.
Throwing away
all safety advice
I stand with one hand
on the tree’s wet bark
and the other out and up
allowing the drips to slip
through my fingers
between the rings
of our newly formed union
soaking down
through my clothes
surrounding my skin
and flow deep
deep down
to the healing place
of my soul.
And if my sighs of contentment
and renewed strength
were not so loud,
you could have heard
the tree’s.