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
