Today, I needed a tree.

So then, I was walking, hands not-so-free at my sides, around a lake.  The sky was rotating from orange to blue.  Around one bend, and the water breathed cool on me.  Around another bend, and the heat from the brush coughed warm.  My words were tumbling out, trying to find their order.  The dusky air was, too, trying to find its scent for the evening--jasmine, or sewage--as if one wasn't terrible.

And there weren't any trees around me, well there were, but no trees.  I needed a giant.  I needed an ancient.

I came back around.  The night was turning in, the birds trilling; and I looked at the mountain, a small one, but the highest in the city.  My feet rooted into the pavement and steadied.  A massive redwood suddenly sprouted on top of the bald mountain, pushing the sky out of its way.

I paused, for one, two, three to watch, then uprooted and went on my way.

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