She speaks in cherry red
Prunus cerasifera
He whispers falling leaves
Amongst the diving wrens.
Happy tears shed every morning
Before the Lyrebird sire
Starts his lone choir

Ashen pine blue, flame trees
Quiet illumination
Sensual body of Autumn

I lift up my thoughts
I lift up my voice
I see so much
That makes me rejoice

The sky - the trees
The food on my plate
The freedom I know
To choose my fate

The air I breathe
My mind - my choice
I see every day
As cause to rejoice

Three rings of a bone punched with knives
Hangs from fang trees,
Replacing the once solid trees.

Each ring echoes through the air;
Each dripping of a substance, unknown;
Turned inside out.

Each one, a white surface.
Veins filled of crimson delight,
Running down slowly, but surely.

Underneath a raining sky,
Sometimes dreams
Turn it into blood.

Each tree, perfectly fine one morning,
Until screams echo through the air,
On the first of the month of Halloween.

streaks of white in sky
soft blue green trees empty
space filled with aware
is you

Poetry to me is both the tree and the seed.
Weight gets taken off my chest and helps me to breathe
Allowing unhealed wounds to get the stitches they need
In dark times the pen connects fueling the necessary release.
I get to write out the vision of my dreams
And speak my peace confidently,
Because poetry saved me

I've been able to address and let go of what pains me, thankfully.
These words strewn together form a much bigger painting. 
I know it reaches beyond me so potentially someone else could read and also find life worth saving.
Cyclically, once again we will all fall like a leaf from a tree.  
Ever-important, you are an integral part of life, a whisper in the wind floating on in the breeze.
Plant those seeds and Watch the growth of Being.
Remember You are profound, deep, and
beautiful - like poetry

I strung up Christmas lights on the trees in my mind
and haven’t taken them down yet.