Once a week I go to visit an Oak tree.
I often feel like a squirrel when I arrive.
My mind twitching like a fluffy tail.
I try to immerse myself into a slower pace.
A more patient place.
A more expansive space.
I try to listen to my tree who is not up to much these cold days of winter.
I try to do the same.
The wind blows in the branches.
I let it blow over across my cheeks.
The snow lands on the boughs above.
I let it land on my shoulders.
Me and my tree.
I am a different mammal when I say good bye.
A whale? A Loris?
A Hispaniolan solenodon?
But truly, I think I am just more human.