The Secret Life of Trees
The lush verdant blanket, from above, has a gently fizzing appearance, and more shades of green than you can possibly dream of. Your dreams are increasingly filled with this forest, once from a distance, across rich rolling hills, now in more detail. Each night your restless brain conjures images, ever closer, moving in and above, and finally, moving ever closer with each moonrise.
Slipping into sleep beckons with yet more anticipation, for now your dreams have taken you close onto a single tree. An honest and open tree, its wide branches sitting broadly and comfortably. I am here, this tree says to you, I am here.
The closing sensation never ceases, and tonight you see a leaf as if it were a continent, it fills your mind, and the details magnify and multiple with a heavy inevitability that is welcome, the pressing feel of a woollen blanket on a cold winter’s night.
Insects, caterpillars, of course. But these are not the details you crave, these are the giants of the scene, barely comprehensible in their enormity. We see every minute grain of the leaf, the drops of water like oceans, and what life even these contain!
A week further, the nights have shifted and elongated, and the comforting dreamscapes have become unsettling. The constitute parts of the atoms may well be awe-inspiring, beautiful even. Yet your rested brain is becoming restless, worried – what lies next?
Today I wrote between 12:43 and 12:53. I was prompted by an idea here.
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