breathing

no judgement

no compromise

the trees do not care of my dumbness

they quietly accept me

shroud my identity

and allow me humble reprise

i sway with them over and over

the still air relaxes their fire autumn leaves.

The protectors and givers

from the soft moss clinging to their bark

to my every breath

i am thankful

i am breathing

but when i draw my last

i will lay on my back

bare skin offering

at the treetops staring

i thank them for their company

as they take what they need from me

brown bed of soil

sponge for turmoil

i crumble and disfigure at their root

they claim back what is theirs