I heard it. I turned around and watched it finish it's course at my feet.
The tree fell. The ground wavered. The roots ripped open the earth and I cried.
Infernal noise as tendrils of life let go of the giving soil.
My shouts muffled, green leaves spilling their tears in my mouth.
The branches bleeding as they are whiping against the forest.
And I touch the blood and bring my fingers to my lips.
My lips.
My tongue pushes softly called by the wetness.
My lips.
Do not open. I will go to sleep thirsty.
I turn around and let it bleed and bleed and bleed.
It's not the fall that killed the tree.
mmmm trees, rooted, connected directly to the earth, still and alive, stoic… I’m just throwing out words here…
I threw them out too. movement now.
I love the last line. It reminds me of the saying, “You don’t drown from falling in the water, you drown from staying there.”