I spent hours and hours yesterday watching miles and miles of trees.  Tall skinny trees, fat thick trees, wide leaves, and needle-point.  They sweep through my mind like a stiff soft brush that massages my tired tangled scalp of thoughts.  Tingling my whole body with sweet scent of pine and tender earth of moss-rotting trunks.

I’ve seen mountain tops with scraggly scruff wirey trees holding on to indeterminate cracks in the granite rockface, wearing down millions of years of solid stone with tiny tough roots of would.

All I have to do today is be the strength of me where I am planted, eat the earth in front of me, sway in the wind of words, and breathe the Spirit that tends the World Tree inside me.