Ground Level

I don’t want to hug trees, they can’t move or give permission so it isn’t a two way hug. I feel I am taking and this lacks a care and respect for bodies that should be present. However, there is place where they come to me into my world. Where parts of their bodies are washed to a place where we access equally: the ground. Our bodies intermingle; their bark, my skin, their leaves, the shopping list accidentally dropped from my pocket. This ground - ground level - where we converse speechlessly at equal standing is of course colonised by the un-degraded waste of humanity - screaming so loud it is difficult to appreciate.