Chaplet

I.

A conversation amongst trees

I cannot hear what they are saying, that young girl
and the tree. Their whispers are intimate , ceaseless.

I am sunk into a conifer hedge, tamped into a wall,
threaded into the blue ivy.

This is a warm chaplet against the rain,
And I would lie here if it wasn't for the sky-

the sky will not skew to my vision,
body conspires with green-leaf to thrust me forward.