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.