my tree

i woke in the middle of the night with this in my head, demanding to be written down.

i had a dream
about a magical tree.
it seemed so real,
i woke and felt
it must be a memory from another life.
a tangled mass
of brush and vines
i had to pass
to see the glen that kept my tree.
the taste of dew
(or morning rain)
still lingers on my lips
and i still feel
the brush of bark against my cheek.
the branches held me,
safer than i've ever been.
i saw myself in the deepest pool,
so clear i saw the stars
reflected in the day.
no silhouette will ever be
as lovely to my eyes,
nor will any sound
echo as sweetly
as the wind that whispered my name
through the leaves.