My words are not always words. Sometimes they are sounds. Hmm. Rrr. Rah! When I find myself feeling feelings so intensely this is how I communicate. Guttural. Staccato. Loud.

I want to leave.
I want to run –– fast and far away.
I want to scream, Come back to me!
when I visit you in that place.

To talk about trees is to talk about life. As a child, trees watched over me as I slept, painted on my bedroom walls by my father. The trees had little eyes peeking out and elves nestled inside.