I’ve stopped dating.

I’d rather watch trees.

The wind arrives.

The branches lean.

This tree has cured me.

Look at her.

Rooted.

Completely herself.

Yesterday the wind came through
and she lost three leaves.

I didn’t wonder
what it meant.

I have stopped calling longing
a spiritual practice.

The tree is still dancing.

And so am I.

I made tea.

I opened the window.

Nothing was missing.