I am a Tree

I am a tree.
In a pot, I would be Bonsai-taking shape to what hand had guided me into some preconceived shape and form. My roots restricting how much growth I could contemplate within the confines of my container. No web of microbes to communicate with others of my kind. Its lonely. Such too is the life of a city tree.

I am a tree.
Clinging to rocks, I am worn down by the forces of nature-the same nature that I am an integral part of. I cling to dear life and greedily accept whatever nutrients trickle into my possession. I manage, but those forces contort and distort me from resembling any other tree of the same kind.

I am a tree.
In a field solitary, my branches fill all sides that light may shine. I have no competition for my dominion. I grow rigid and upright. My companions are the animals that lay beneath my branches for shade and land in them for safety. I have no companions of my own kind. No forest to hid my accomplishments of greatness….and solitude.

I am a tree.
In a grove, my roots overlap my fellow trees. We look similar and somehow unique. We have less branches on our sides because we share this space, no bold majestic solitary trees here. We absorb sound with our numbers such that it buffers out the noise of destructive forces.
-it is here you can hear us whisper to one another.
We have friends.

I am, a tree.



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