The Song Of The Trees

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Places / White

I wake up, happy–
although still heavy.
I decide to go walking,
to break the levee–
on my heart.

The leaves whisper to me,
the shy truths of the rains;
tiny truths that fit into a larger frame,
the truths that arose from the depths of the sea,
where the heart of our lands is said to be.

I listen with intent,
as the rustling dies down,
for the end of those pages
is revealed to be torn.

Thus, for the truth as a whole,
I must return once more
to hear the song of the trees,
and the cries of the sea.

The Author

22 . living large . hold on to your seats, ladies.

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