Being This

I wrote this poem last winter, in the quiet days before the year turns—when the light is low. In a time of reflection, of shedding, and of preparing to step into a new version of ourselves. A new beginning.
The image I call The Mother Tree. She lives in Helen Putnam Park in Petaluma, standing tall on the hilltop. I visit her when I need to be received. She holds space in her ancient and unwavering silence. In her presence, I remember, allowing myself to just be this—as I am.