The Trees Held Their Silence
The trees held their silence through winter,
wrapped tightly within the hardiness of bark
and brittle outer branches. They were silent,
as was I, as were you, my Love, unshielded.
We touch, without touching, sometimes
and know without knowing how we do.
We sink deep, sometimes, fall into blank
spaces, shivering our way through the cold.
The trees called to me in the early spring,
telling me to look up – I looked up
and saw the swallows had returned to me
and in their returning, I returned, as did you,
my Love, unhindered. We rise to the light.
We awaken, seeing no further than each other.
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