Treesong

My people are not native to this land, but I am, as I forage the forest beds for what the squirrels have missed. There are enough nuts for me to take what I need and leave plenty for the woods, for the slow fallow.

Is it true that plastic bags and concrete so completely separate me from your beauty, trees? Do these synthetic clothes make me look strangely naked below your branches, strangely out of place?
If I am close enough to your trunk, if I am still enough, I can hear your heartbeat.

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