two little saplings
their limbs cannot hear
each others’ leaves rustling
shushes of sweet nothings
they only feel the soft caress of whispered wants
their leaves cannot see
how with each season
the branches reach, yearning towards them
they only feel a newborn tendril’s touch
their hearts enclosed in trunk
spread out their rooted love
and rejoice
when they taste
the same rain
and bask in the same warmth
two old gnarled trees
know of a love
they feel it within
beyond what they know
but they know.
intotheindigo 
the enthusiasm of being born…the life…and the aging that gives us wisdom…we hope…..SO BEAUTIFUL! WOW!