I awoke feeling before my hearing caught up…

a crack, an ache, a cold naked moment.

Zubzero on a Persimmon branch.

Then the moan, like movement of surface and depth

meeting to survive

I felt this. Not the cold, there in my bedroom, safe behind double paned windows, safe under down, safe over heated bedding.

I felt what the tree was feeling.

I felt the brittle truth of sap so deep within and waiting that the external had to trust in a hope.


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