When we dream of trees what do they mean? Is it a cliché?

Probably. But what isn’t at this point? I wonder

which beliefs bloom from the ears or the heart

like cymbals crashing together. Branches that

intertwine while competing for the sun teach me

everything I already know. When I miss

who I used to be, I remember the times that

I was hardly even there. A slip stream of

consciousness told me to run into the wild

and to become moss. Yes, I said, yes

this is how I was always meant to be.

When howling is a thing of belly

I allow my body to remember how it's untamed.

Who do you call when you wake in the middle of the night forgetting?