Emily C
I died and was buried here
shrouded and coffined,
and once I got my bearings
I sank into the earth
and eventually I found the roots of the ponderosa
and my spirit intermingled with the moisture,
and what an incredible sensation it was—
the roots took me in
and accepted me into the spirit of them
like feet sliding into an old pair of slippers.
And then, my spirit rose up
into the veins of the tree.
My spirit rose up and expanded into the bark
and then into the branches of the tree,
and eventually, I was able to breathe
myself into the leaves of the tree,
and there I could bask in the sun
become part of a larger growing of myself,
become one, until I was part of the seasons’ song,
part of every turning—every sound
every note, every learning.

Woo
Look! Beside you and all around you, roses are growing wild.
And as they die, their petals are picked by the wind
and scattered like dust, to camouflage your ground.

Emily C
Monkey Woo—that’s very poetic.
You should’ve been a poet!

Woo
Never!
Poets talk too much!

©Sheri-D Wilson
A Love Letter to Emily C, Frontenac House (2019)