Poem: January 12, 2020

This Is How We're Supposed to Be

Even trees are more air than tree,
but don't they seem to fill their spaces,
reaching out all at once, breaking out
into every direction, and opening wide
with leafy palms to breathe and feel
the rain and sun, to be as big as they
can be, and to cast a dancing shadow
that grows larger than themselves,
arms up and out, an athletic stance,
and don't they dig themselves deep
into the ground, spreading their roots
all around, out as far as life allows,
going where the soil goes, searching
for their edges, stretching with their toes,
and don't you love that even though
there's so much earth and so much air,
it still seems the tree is everywhere.