Updated: Aug 21, 2019
coltish uprooted scrawny sapling
at the middle school dance. new kid.
wearing wrong wrinkled shirt. hair is weird.
wide-eyed quiet among the limbs.
bark thickens. branches bulk.
weathered winds and children’s hands.
clenched fists rooting outwards
ropy arms to catch your feet.
These trees we planted one by one
when they were young and shy
are a kind of social butterfly.
They reach for each other and
they don’t let go.
We are not solitary creatures.
Our limbs tangle underground
forever shaking hands, forever in the bedsheets
skin-to-skin for indefinite minutes
while our shy crowns gaze into the sky
and feign solitude.