Dear Forest,
Take me, this day. Be it thorn or splinter, poison leaf or needle, or by way that does not make a sound.
May we dance with broken limbs, bleed with rotting hearts, and burn with contagious crowns of fire.
Let’s be the wind upon our last falling bough.
Beautiful elegy, Dan.
Well done/
wow
I’m there in my forest w this piece. Willingly.
Relatable as a lover of trees and the dance. Perfectly lovely!