I drag myself out of the house.
I trudge down the dirt path
using protruding roots as footholds.
The moss drips down from the sky.
Marshy waters lurk on each side of my path
and I scan for hungry eyes.
The rooms in my home have shrunk
and all the air has been pushed out.
It has pushed me outside.
I need to go talk to the trees.
But what do trees say?
The Texas heat swarms around me like air escaping an oven.
Flowers of pink and purple bloom all around.
Bushes push out plump blackberries
as black snakes slither underneath.
The hailstorm inside my mind has caused me
to flee out of my house.
I need to speak to the trees.
But what do trees say?
I reach the creek.
It is crystal clear, cold, and babbling.
Turtles dive from their logs as I approach.
I step one foot in front of the other,
balancing across a fallen trunk with the creek below.
Cardinals flutter back and forth to nests.
Squirrels run up trunks and chatter to each other about the stranger.
Deer stand like statues with large eyes and strained necks
as I pass by.
In an open field I lay down
in soft grass.
I stare at the tall reaching giants above me.
I feel the warm breeze on my skin and face
and watch the branches sway back and forth.
Beams of light poke through the shade creating a pattern on the ground.
I came to talk to the trees.
But what do trees say?
They say,
“Hello, little one.
Be strong like us.
Be still like us.
Look up. Look around.
Stay under our shade until the hail stops
And all you hear is the rustling of our leaves.”
After a while,
I stand up and stroll back home.
ponderwithpatty 