Cold Smoke

Tree sitting quietly   On a hill by the water   Wants to become a fish
Lifting itself out of the water   The fish now a bird   Looking for a tree to rest in
Your guitar was made from a tree    Born from a seed   Created from a song
Buried inside another tree   How far you walked   Through trees and listening to
Their origin stories   One from a mountain   One from a countryside
One from a temple  One from a castle burned down
I walk this long road at night   Trees black and pointing upward
I button my denim jacket   To stay warm   The air cold smoke blessing me
This quiet tree without a name   Birthed itself   The sun gave it breath
Still breathes on it   If I met you on this road tonight   It would be no accident
The trees inside our souls   Ripening fast