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Pink Feathers

A Simple Request

Please don’t mind me, Tree, as I slip so quietly into your shade, as I sip so softly the breath of your leaves. It’s your strength I need— your silence, your certainty— and no more chatter than bird or squirrel might offer. I need to slip sylvan into your bark, to place all your rings on my fingers. Rock me again, Tree, high and gentle in your branches; Please, with all you are, just let me be. I need at last, at last, to grow roots.

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