Have you ever tried to shake out laundry drying on a line of any bees that might have made your jeans a temporary home? That is what it feels like trying to empty out my head before bed— just trying to free these bees before they sting me in my sleep.
They cut her down today— first, they started with her tallest branches just a few cuts to sprinkle the earth with hundreds of years worth of her Next, they began sawing at her midsection bulbous and covered in lichen her body etched with the histories of teenage love Finally, they snipped her — sliced her…
I wanted to run my fingers through your long hair reaching like wisps of branches toward the sky grip you tight by the roots and remind you who controls the wind that rustles your leaves who controls the rain to relieve your thirst and who controls the sun to warm your soul.
When I’m old and it’s time for me to leave this earth, paint me in green in honor of the moss which grows across the abandoned train station, across the stumps and rocks that flirt with sunlight in the woods.
You pop in and out of my life like the sun slips in front of and behind the clouds a fickle force of nature, yet I still turn to you to help my flowers bloom.