Kneel, then, upon these roots, listening before the offered body, to the language of this ancient tree, cut now, far from canopy and now a waiting map of exposed flesh, etched with the record of seasons. The wound may sprout a new tree from inside the cracks of her severed body if the roots are intact, if disease does not kill what would.
💙
That’s punchy and sharp, like that! Something about the first two words even commands the tone. Lovely image pairing too.
Thank you, Bill! You give me a smile here. Wishing you a great week! : )