Broken branch, leaves turning russet as they shrivel and die
It lies barely a foot from the mother source from which it has fallen
A tall healthy tree, swaying in the breeze
I guess we all need our roots to breathe
Some humans are not so very different
What to hold onto
And what to let go
And the forests of humans flow, as far as the eye can see
In cities, on beaches, their numbers press in on me
So many people
When really, I would rather be with trees
The sound of the birds
The quiet of evening
When thoughts can be heard as they arrive on the breeze
Rustling
*Header picture Cycads in the bush, taken during my 6 day through hike in the Carnarvon Gorge national park in July – they take hundreds of years to reach this height. These were are part of an even older Mahogany Forest. Ancient plants such as these have a presence and energy you can feel. Tree hugger? I wouldn’t dare, they have too much dignity. I felt privileged to walk amongst them.
