Trees that we are

We have been through the worst but here we are.
Remaining unwavering and radiant, the object of envy,
we have been through the best and here we are-
trees, standing apart but under the same swaying canopy.
Our roots have grown coupled,
exchanging and sustaining, our tendrils bound
but separate. Breathing ethers,
swapping nutrients underground.
We warn each other of insect attacks and burrowing grubs,
of sharp beaks and drought.
Of fallow times and fires and of shelters built by Scouts,
and of fallen neighbours' weight.
Seasons change, time will pass, everything will pass,
but not you.
My youth and my buds, the seeds I should miss,
but I don't, for you.

As storms whip and bend inflexible friends,
and peeling bark and cracking branches drop to the forest floor,
as every shade of green swirls and circles,
we are tethered to each other, to the earth, moored.
It takes fellows to make a tree grow, they say,
no tree flowers alone, they say,
a tree breathes and shares and signals, they say.
Its rips and traumas reinforce and reassure
its solidity and its mass and its yielding
heft that surrenders to being weathered
and fatigued but remains cathedral in stature,
a sanctuary, a shelter, protection.

We bloom and we thrive together,
our wellspring mingling,
unsingling, united. Being
impermanent, fated to decay,
means we foster our growth,
and create our future.
I now know how to think,
with you I am home.