she sits

trusting

on a branch

as old as she

wind in her hair

eyes closed

fingers tracing

little roads

on ancient skin

feeling

its heart beat

mirroring her own

there's music

in the air

echoing their hearts

hers and the ancient one's

as one

knowing

understanding

no need for words

or any human measure

of connection

or language

or any need

theirs is knowledge

that transcends

theirs is trust

that's plain and simple

uncomplicated

she sits

on arms she knows

home

eyes closed

wind in her hair.