Cowpens: February 27, 2011

its roots
silently reach
towards conversation
wet and heavy
its tides groan
beneath the gentle gravity
of palms
it soft-shoes in
selfish
hourglass sands
sometimes
it has two
left feet

two trees stand vigil
on ancient battlegrounds
freshly watered
they whisper wisdom
in the winds
I wonder if
their roots
are connected
too

we are seeds
with self-sustenance
for a brief moment
but then must grow
roots
and often bark
and sometimes leaves

some things are seasonal

i've found
i'm not
an evergreen

winter only seems
like death
but i've still got
some sap

i know i'm not poplar, birch
but
if i can
i decide you, us