We can learn a lot from trees —
the way they converse,
send each other nutrients
carbon and water along
latticed-fungi networks,
underground masses
of hyphae connecting
one root system to another
delivering what is needed.
In British Columbia, forests
of paper birch and Douglas fir
compete at first then learn to work
together, transferring carbon one
to another at just the right time
Perhaps this symbiotic relationship
is the forest wisdom we humans need —
the wisdom of sharing food and water
so all can thrive and become entwined,
one with another, in a filigree of love
speckled brown bark
covers this deeply etched tree
its curling chips break easily
along plaits braided
by uneven seasons
telling stories of
drought and storms
a rounded knob
of nose peeks
through boughs
smoothed over
from years of weather
but sharp clean cuts
prove a deliberate hand
severed these limbs
maybe disease, dead branches,
perhaps to force new growth
or a tree lover seeking symmetry
loss is never easy
but the lush green
makes it all worthwhile
pruning, seemingly
harsh at the time,
brings forth fuller fruit
and a woodsy cloud of musk
more fragrant than I can imagine.
birds swoop
among leafy
sunlight boughs
cradling me
for the letting go
of the long familiar
I am ready now to embrace
the discomfort of fresh awareness
will welcome the blade
accept the necessary pain
to reach my whole measure