Tree

Tree.

Still, holding your breath as the

wind blows not, but slowly

exhaling when rustling needles catch

the zephyrs of dawn.

Rough heights tickling the bottoms

of the clouds.

From the hairy dirty roots,

to the lime smelling pricks:

From the bark, dead and crinkled,

to the heart pumping efficiently stories high;

From the seed shells layered in brown,

to the sticky gooey, sweet sap;

You feed, you shelter, you breathe,

you live,

giving it

all away.

Elena Huegel

Jan. 1992

 Tree with leaves for the healing of the nations

Elena Huegel

May 2012