Your tree

Your branches spread out explosively following the root impulse of clear intuition, the tree grows and grows. You rise into the sky faster than bamboo. I love living in your tree, spread my wings to another place for a while, but every day I fly around your tree and sometimes I sit on the newer twigs and sway with your strong hold in the wind and am in awe and in love abbout all the fresh buds and branches. There I want to be, in your crown, the top of your tree, there I want to make my nest. And once I'm ready, the bird will fly to wherever your branches have spread and if your whisper allows, let myself land up there and sing my song all over your miracle.