If the bark scrolls, no pulls away, no whirls away toward an unexplored infinity on every eucalyptus tree. If your car, driving past, pulls from the movement a velocity toward awe. If the leaves scent and litter your dreams. Wonder what is written beneath that bark.
If the alligator skinned bark of the willow pulls toward sky and its long-armed limps weave in the wind. If you sit in the grass beneath its shade and think only of the miles of roots that spell it’s (keeps ship afloat). Wonder if they spell escape or the language of knowing a place from the ground up.
If the single oak on the bare hill side speaks of solitude. If you can’t pass without finding it crowning the hillside. If the fog holds its breath over your sight. Lift the tree in your mind toward the horizon.
If the air is grenadine with dawn and swollen with the dawn song. If the hummingbird finds you high up on the porch away from the nectar. Lift your eyes to that whir and thunder of wing. Let that movement take you to flight.