She Told Me the Earth Loves Us

...Today I learned that trees can't sleep
with our lights on. That they knit

a forest in the"ir language, their feelings.
This is not a metaphor.
Like seeing a face across a crowd,
we are learning all the old things,
newly shined and numbered.
I'm always looking

for a place to lie down
and cry. Green, mossed, shaded.
Or rock-quiet, empty. Somewhere

to hush and start over.
I put on my antlers in the sun.
I walk through the dark gates of the trees.

Grief waters my footsteps, leaving
a trail that glistens.