Primal Protection

There's a lot of life in the hollow of a rotten tree. I've always felt the draw of it, to crawl on through and live inside. Make room while the termites take over, hold fast to the past life, making new dirt for the next. Feeding into our need for renewal, hungry history on the outskirts of the old cemetery. I've got in every trunk I could, stood stiff, bent over or laid down. Kept warm from the wind with walls of wood on all sides, now I know how the sap feels. Exoskeleton holding me in, just the right kind of cave when I need one. Primal protection for what's left of the winter, go on and shiver me home.

 

February 26, 2019

Bridgetown, Nova Scotia

 

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