Heartwood

childhood

dreams of flying—

an arc of limbs

in a leaf-green wind

the compass of my life

high in the arms

of a sugar maple

with my book

and a golden apple. . .

sap rising in my veins

in forests

and libraries

the whispers

of myriad leaves

gathering light

I follow

a will-o’-the-wisp

from tree to tree—

the thing with feathers

singing down my bones

      ~cattails 1:1, Jan. 2014