they flutter when they sense
 the weight of my work bootsÂ
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 needÂ
to wake to an alarmÂ
 to purposefully bend low
 as others goad for the light
how could they understandÂ
the way thoughts burrow in emotions
how you betray yourselfÂ
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