The trees whistle and turn
and say I love you
The sky softens into a pasty blue
To touch my cheek
and wrap around my head
into a halo
From Heaven
I speak the language of the wind
and as it clangs on petals
makes its vowels clear to me
I hear it travel into my ear canal
and break into immeasurable softness
that glows into a sun
of ribs
and holds my insides again
burning
The heather waves its hello to me
across another canal
it’s a hand few people see
reaching out from faith
and into certainty
Their bodies are the roots
the trunk
the mirrored water
My First Parents
The tree casts its shadow long
across my small body
and sprawls its divinity
through my Doubts
The weeping sun withers on
through its leaves
to recommend its truth
to lend its warmth
to beckon me
back Home
The bending branches break earth
and gravity
to shake hello and
wipe tears from my ashen face
These Hands
are green and soft and hard
and guide me on
the
roaring
planet
Wishy wash of wind through
veiny, straining chandeliers
whispers, roars
through the ages and into
present tense—
to waken sleeping truths
to resurrect dead love
to strip mourning feet of black
I love you
I see you
I made you
Hello.