Within the shade
of your outstretched branches
gripping bushels
to keep me
from the moonlight and sunlight
of these numbered days
tearing layers by the dozens
aging endlessly
effortlessly
reluctantly
in their habitual intoxication
and desperation
and it was not my decision
to stay belted here
cornered off away
from movement and experience
tasting only the residue of moments
delivered through hear-say
and her incessant jabbing
of the realization
of what I am lacking
while I lie buckled
and kept against your body
and even my neighbors
these birds of blue
and red
and brown
and black
that sing me awake each day
in time
will part ways from their nests
stowed in your corners
and head off into new winds
in the distance
their beds of sticks and leaves
cold and empty
and much like I
unable to do anything besides
sit
and lie
and watch
while these lives skip on past
basking in all the light
of night and day
the emotions stinging
and cleansing
and cooling to their spirits
as they grow
and develop with experiences
experiences that you
O tree
do desire so to protect me from
day after day
as I lie here
buckled to the bottom
tasting only the residue of moments
delivered through hear-say
and her incessant jabbing
of the realization
of what I am lacking
far from the effervescent light
of night and day.