Duality in Bloom

(What started as a flow of consciousness session about my favorite tree that I park under turned into this, I’m very new to even trying to put together poetry, it doesn’t feel like it’s poetry but I don’t know what else it would be so here we gooooooooo)

I have watched a big beautiful tree go through the changes of the seasons.

I’ve seen how many trees she has been.

I watched her branches fight against the cutting chill of icy wind.

We started this quarantine the same;

.

Cold and raw.

.

Her shades of green emerging from the cold grey winter,

shifting to pastel as white buds mix with leaves.

Spreading until she looks more a light mint than green.

I watched, surprised, noticing pops of pink burst out of Spring.

I wonder if we are still the same.

Her bushy new growth, swaying- shimmying in the warm breeze.

I like to think we feel the same when we dance;

.

Grounded and whole.

.

The sound of her rustling’s the background track to my wholehearted attempts at music,

adding a much needed underlayer of calm.

Perhaps we’ve been making music together this whole time.

She stands alone. She thrives alone.

She’s the only tree here with so many blooms; so much life.

It feels like we are friends, or maybe it feels like she is me.

Maybe she’s the tree I became in the bad trip that one night.

She looks like I could climb her-

But I won’t because I don’t know if I’d break her.

.

I wish people took the same precaution with me.

Grasping at the void: https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/ik3xpc/grasping_at_the_void/g3j5l73/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf

I am an annual: https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/ik6k34/i_am_an_annual/g3j6mi6/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf