The
leaves rustle
with
each breath of wind,
making
their entangled limbs
moan
and groan
each
soft leaf rubbing
the
tough hide of the other tree,
searching
out the crevices
for
the most tender spaces
tree
trunks rubbed
and
being rubbed,
moaning,
groaning
as
the limbs shift,
hopelessly
looped
one
limb inseparable
from
another
so
neither knows
whose
limb belongs to whom,
or
even caring
learning
to lean against each other
suffering
the same aching together
each
easing the other’s pain
through
long years of intimacy,
casting
off their cloaks
in
season,
but
never each other.
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