Tree People

Wakening from the dreaming forest there, the hazel-sprig
sang under my tongue, its drifting fragrance
climbed up through my conscious mind
as if suddenly the roots I had left behind
cried out to me, the land I had lost with my childhood -
and I stopped, wounded by the wandering scent.
- Pablo Neruda -
music+image

Gracias por su visita. / Thanks for visiting, its most appreciated.