I feel it forcing through;
Firmness beneath the skin,
Flexed flesh poised greenly,
Yet blood-warm to fingertips
That tiptoe the angled trunk,
Moss-blasted and multi-eyed,
Seeing the lengths we’re lost in
Registered in tight rings.
Vacant nests will be filled,
Nodes will unload their meat,
Sap will surge sugar sweet.
Insects in its armpits
Prepare for sunlessness,
And winter’s neutered months.
