tree-ness

and even after all these years
of witnessing worlds
being born, grow and die,
a tree doesn't ask for anything;

it doesn't pat you on the shoulder
to speak what it has seen or lived,
it doesn't point to things
you must see and heed,
it doesn't wait for you
to utter a word of gratitude,
it simply stands there -
tall and resplendent
with all its scars and glory,
feeding you everything it has
in every season,
pouring itself
into each moment
lived and seen,
without uttering a word;

but only if you care
to stop and listen
to it speak
from its tree-ness.