A Tree with Legs
Trees can walk, I should know.
I am a tree with legs
My branches are tall and lush
My roots feast on nourishing soil
Until I pick up my feet
And with thunderous thud
Stomp towards my next meal
I am a mountain with ears
Who hears the song of the birds
The bear's snore, the lion's growl
And with them in perfect time
Shifts earth, stone, and grass
To build a stage for their symphony

I am a sun with arms
As big as I shine
I bring close those held dear
Into a warm embrace
As frigid ice thaws
And light spreads
I am a moon with eyes
Haunting night's horizon
I see spoken secret words
I see made covert moves
Dark armor not impenetrable
Under looming stony gaze

I am a river with teeth
Swift, biting, and cold
Gnashing into firmament
But that which bites speaks
I whisper of richness and life
Waiting below the current
I am a hand with nothing
That yearns to grasp and hold
I touch and pat and search
For something to hold onto
And what do I find
But the branch of a tree

This poem came from a challenge I received from Lyght to make something today. I put out a call for art commissions to go along with this, and am deeply grateful that Scott Kersey, Katie (a.k.a. legdotegg), aigys, and Lindsay Odom answered the call. Wonderful folks all, and well worth following on social media, should you be inclined.
Go make something, and convince someone else to do so as well.