Children gather at my feet

as I open a book to read.

A book about how trees whisper to me

when it rains.

Their eyes are bright,

their minds open.

My voice rises and falls

like the ocean.

I read the part about how

the trees mourn their family

as they’re cut down.

They send wisdom through the wind

and if people are present,

the thoughts will be planted in their minds.

I turn pages and add more that isn’t written.

Mermaids can be found

at the sea,

if you hold a seashell out as an offering

while standing in the waves.

 

The children cry for more at the end

but my voice is gone.

Later, I sit under the weeping willow tree in my yard

and braid my hair.

Rain is coming.

And I am listening.

Hold me in your magic,

I am safe there.