I tried to push at a tree once. All right. More than once. It was a big tree. The kind you couldn’t put your arms around. Firmly rootedimage-6240078-10731106. Really tall. I got tired. And breathless. And bruised. I pushed so hard I fell asleep. I had some strange dreamsimage-6240078-10731106. Nina Simone singing about a man goddamn. I woke up. I left.
I came back to the tree. It was a warm day. I brought a bucket of water. I gave the tree a drink. I lay at its base, in the mud. The mud became a pond. The pond became a lake. The lake became a river. I sat with my tree.

Not every tree is made by Shel Silverstein.
And maybe it’s better that way.

October 2012