they flutter when they sense

 the weight of my work boots 

as if I intuit

       their every want —

  fertilizer for their roots 

  neem oil for their leaves

  water for their soil

  stakes for their fledgling growth

as if I too am guided

 by the rhizomes of my soul

they have never known the need 

to wake to an alarm 

 to purposefully bend low

 as others goad for the light

how could they understand 

the way thoughts burrow in emotions

how you betray yourself 

when you say one thing

while your heart cries another

they will never know what it means

                                                          to walk away from places 

                                                                                                   that ground you 

          to feel the precariousness of intimacy 

                                              when it touches the root of you

if only I could rely on

the return of seasons

          shed every worn leaf

        and begin anew

           bare to the elements