Friday, October 16, 2015


Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

On these mornings you can hear the trees themselves
speaking, not the birds that have lifted into currents
and gone on two miraculous wings. There is grief
in their voices, and relief. You know what this feels
like, if you have lived. Leaving: letting go of what no
longer serves the body and soul, often the heart. I can
standby, beside and underneath, and give some sense
of comfort by telling them how beautiful this process
is, how I admire the way they do it with the bold
prospect of witnesses.

I think that relating to the leaf is harder than relating
to the tree, unless you consider that the bird left
the tree for some grand adventure, and then you go on to
realize that we are all leaving each other constantly.

Our old selves, too.

It was a tree, on one of these delicate barren mornings, 
that said to me: 

“I love to watch you change and grow.”

© 2015-2016/Jamie K. Reaser
From "Plant Songs" (a work in progress)
To be published by Talking Waters Press

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