Trees Are Changing the Landscape of My Mind

By Nancy Wells

My soul is woven with the trees of winter
        shadowed sentinels
        stark black line drawings
        intricately laced together,
        silhouetted against the cold white snow
        exposing the pale blue netting of the sky.

My heart is a gnarled branch, opening doorways to the unknown.
            Traveling through branches,
            I touch the alchemy of fire,
            slip inside the bark of trees
            and feel the sap surge through my blood.

My ears are fine tuned to the quiet sound of trees.
            Trees listen with a stillness
            that enters me.
            With a whispering breath
            melting into mine,
            they show great empathy.

My feet mirror the urgency of roots.
            I yearn to ground myself,
            to hold the soil together
            when the heavy rains come.
            At night my toes curl up in sleep
            and dream of trees,
            cavorting wildly with the wind.