To Be a Shedding Tree

by SL Ruth

Trees bare their souls in season
shed the litotes of their leaves
while standing firmly rooted
against the world,
as limbs, branches, and tiny twigs
feather into the unknown.
One knows where a tree stands.

Often, I've wished to silently
slip inside your mind or heart
to feel where you are rooted
how you stand within the world,
to see as you do
feel what you feel.
My miserable attempts have failed.

If time provided a season
when all the facade was shed
when we could face one another,
as bare as winter trees
exposed, to see, to touch
our hands could trace life-veins
feeling through the limbs, branches and twigs
to the feathered feelings of our souls.
We could then embrace the unknown
rooted together
and love,
or sigh,
like a wind whispered,
through a heavy growth of leaves,
I understand,
and walk away.