I see you from far, so tall, watching over all the rest. For moons and moons you’ve stood here at water’s edge. I’ll follow it to meet you, slowly, gently tread. Your roots reach out, moving waves weaved amongst eachother, flowing. Flowing from you, rippling huge, then smaller, smaller. Thin your waves, and tall as I – whole living walls of moss-lit green, droplet-glowing with secret light amongst the shadows. I reach out and touch you on reddish ridges, can I climb? Slowly stepping, holding, held, I climb into your tresses. Up towards your trunk so solid twisting, graceful-curving up to Sky. Leaves caught in flight fill the nooks of your lacing limbs, these roots. New plants shooting here, whole palm trees grow from gaps so rich. Vines surge and wind, helical swirling, swooping to Above. Or curling snake-like, lace-like hanging, binding, lifting. Living, they let me climb. Giant understory leaves shelter crowds of thousand-clustered golden flies. One breath of wind and clouds pour out to thicken shafts of sunlight silently breaching white February-skies. And great green canopy’s shady eyes. I move just as you curve, so slowly almost still. Moving silence, breathing giant, I stretch and step from root to root. Your Northern side is wide waters full of forest, flowing flood of silent ripples flashing. Eastern side is swamp-edge shallows, and I’m up and down in hidden hallows, hollows, living caverns between your roots. Swung by a hung vine, I descend and see your centre, dry and protected, secret heart. Leaning in to where bats squeak unseen, below me you’ve a dark pool shining. Looking down at light above its like seeing through the underside, otherworld, heart of gold. Crystal centre glancing, dancing. And here in this dry shelter, cave of wood, there hangs a thread. Dangling fragile a wispy cloud cocoon protruding spikes of enwrapped caterpillar in his Stillness. Silken secrets of transformation. When will it be he flies? Climbing out, back onto rolling waves of root and web of vine, I step slow and sure and gently held though so high up. Notice moss grows on your moss; algal mists caught amidst stands of green strands, tiny tendril hands stretching to comb the cool wet air. White filaments feel their delicate way across wide walls, glowing on patchy painted rough-smoothness of your bark. And tiny heart-shaped leaves bloom across your flank, veined themselves with networks of a vitality pulsing. One heartleaf snailed with a winding white trail, details a journey lived and left behind. How many, the layers of life you align, Great Mother? I climb down in reverent thanks, soaked through with a wonder not my own. Colossal being, nurturing womb, unconditional platform of this Life, Great Mother.


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