Then we become little by little this foliage
That endlessly whispers and perhaps travels
With our sleep which it takes in and leads right
To where roots plunge, the very depths,
Where the top of small branches wanders under the wind.
We sleep, the tree keeps watch, it listens to the words
The dark tree of dreams murmurs as it sleeps.
~ Text: From “The Second Room” in Return to Calm, poems by Jaques Réda
~ Image: Pommier, Atget, 1922 (thank you m. swiezynski)