Resting Tree- Michael Erickson

Breathe a while with me,

Upon these mountains of red rock and clay.

Let the sun blaze down upon our backs,

That we may find an alcove of stone to rest our weary souls.

Dive down to cracks and crevices long formed,

Where we may wander out to this valley floor.

I stopped before a tree gnarled with seasons past,

It asked me from whence I came with bark so young and wick quite green.

I threw back my head and laughed at the autumn sun,

From high reaches North of here I replied,

Just shy of winter’s long bones so bare.

The bush waved me closer and asked me to rest beneath its shade,

I lay my body against its trunk as it shifted bows to block the sun.

And for a time I slept and dreamt of waters pristine,

With glowing roots entwining eternal.

Michael is a husband, father, writer, poet, and aspiring author. He finds time to scribble down his thoughts in the dead of night, between ghosts and night owls. If you’d like to read more of his poetry follow the link here. Or to visit his full blog, ‘The Ink Owl’ click here.

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