**These were all short, so I thought I'd post them together.**

[1.] "The Arborist's Dream"
The cherry tree, I dreamt, was blighted.
Its bark was bubbling up, frothing pink at each joint.
The disease was making it turn into a cherry soda, all fizzy.
I, the arborist, with my ladder climbed
and trimmed, and pruned, and treated
but in vain.
I could not find the source and kill it,
so the tree was going to die.

Under flowered boughs
teared up with rain
my heart now learns to
break again
No pain so great as
love betrayed
for true love always
forever remains

Now blanket of fog
to cover the stain
to dampen this night
that can't even rain
for numbness of loss
comes to cover the pain
and this heart goes silent
all afraid again

There's a longing for wind to
come stir through the trees
maybe storm and thunder could
set this heart free

You promised that we wouldn't come to this place
promised that we'd be okay
it's all right, you said, but there's no light
and only the evergreens aren't dead
or afraid.

I keep my heart tucked under sand
I keep my soul buried under land
there is the sun, you say, but the morning's not come
ancient, dry bones turned to clay
in my hand.

**A poem of two perspectives. It was written while I thought about the two main characters of my (other) novel. Aida's people are a race descended from Dryads, and... well, I hate to give the plot away, so glean what you will from the poem.**

 Between the night and sunrise

The dark is silent

—no birdsong, squirrel-kin chatter—

only the moving, shifting, stirring…

deepening…fading…

fellowship of the trees.

Before the sun-lit wind-song leaf-dance,

Merry façade of joy at fate—

Quiet…feeling…fellowship.

Resigned contentment,

Accepting what has always been,

But at the same time, a struggle,

The desire to hold off a little longer

Against the long unknowing winter.

Smiles without laughter,

Unspoken mutual sympathy

Part Five: The Curse

Sedera vanished through the trees without waiting for an answer.  Bridget turned and walked the opposite direction.  And tripped over a root.  Sprawled on her face and very much annoyed, she heard laughter, evil, ugly laughter.
"You- *snort* -must be- *gurgle* -Bridget.  How nice- *snort* -to meet you. *giggle-snort*"

Something held her at the topmost stair,
another hand beside her own
and the ghostly wind through the night pulsed soft,
Was it music or did it moan?
She was drawn out toward the night
like a moth drawn to the light
To fly into the candle,
to fly into the flame,
is to be more than courage,
is to rise above shame
And the ellum awoke and shook themselves
and they wept for something that only they felt
And she nearly stepped out into the star-swirling dark