The Mulberry Tree
I climb the crooked slats nailed to the trunk of our gnarly old mulberry tree.
My safe haven waits patiently for my return.
I reach the plank floor of the tree house and swiftly lie on my back.
I exhale a smile at the leaves waving at me from their branches.
I feel the dappled warmth of sunlight on my skin.
I inhale deeply, consuming the scent of ripe berries and old wood.
With each breath I distance myself from the uneasiness that had invaded me.
The tree, my tree, is the calmness that I crave.
This tree is magical.
September 8, 2013