I am of the earth.
My skin sheds dust like the stones shed dirt.
I am from the trees,
the leaves cradled me when I was little.
I am cyclical, seasonal, perennial.
The sun invites the best of me.
I stay distant, untouched, without belonging.
Connected to the slow nights of the forest floor,
where moonlight spills down through the understory.
I breathe the deep essence of the wild,
into my being, through the alveoli, into my blood.
I seed the earth with my body,
let the plants turn my corpse into a hidden garden.