They never blink or look away,
a single eye on white-bark skin.
I behold their upright posture,
tendril branches rising at crowns.
We lock in, as the practice deepens.
Eye-gazing, portals open,
my roots sink down to touch
the hidden networks they employ.
Do you see me – the unrooted one?
Dancing on a cabin deck, walking along the river.
Moving, moving, in a list of motions.
Longing for a place to settle down.