Xylem pipeline

Your roots spread far beneath the rich earth that someone once divided with borders. Ours have Gemini grown, entangled through the clay, anchoring us, air borne in our silken mud womb, finger painting our sky with sage, rust and bloom. No borders could shackle us from drinking the same water, bathing the same sunlight, watching the same moon. I will always feel you in the typhoon, howling the grass with our volatile leaves. You’ll be scarlet and I’ll be green, expanding gently in the delicate fold of years. We muttered through mycelium, sharing sweetened soil, allofeeding our web of children. A sash of lichen straddled your bark; woodpecker hole, ivy garland, fungi brooch; we wore them with pride as age gracefully approached, swaying peaceful with the forest folk. Your branches stretched South to the warmth, our seeds were sown East, West and North. We scattered ourselves amongst the corners, forever belonging, erasing the borders.