My Friend Likes to Whisper
My friend likes to whisper
when the wind blows,
she dances in the breeze,
her long leafy arms swaying
under the bright summer sky.
I visit her every day,
to touch the tiny ridges
in her scratchy gray skin,
where bugs sometimes
peek to say hello.
Light weaves its way
through her greenery,
finally escaping her arms
to make dark shadow leaves
on the light brown ground.
When I lean against her,
I think I hear her heartbeat
breathing life into the forest,
as she softly shelters me
from the hot August sun.
when the wind blows,
she dances in the breeze,
her long leafy arms swaying
under the bright summer sky.
I visit her every day,
to touch the tiny ridges
in her scratchy gray skin,
where bugs sometimes
peek to say hello.
Light weaves its way
through her greenery,
finally escaping her arms
to make dark shadow leaves
on the light brown ground.
When I lean against her,
I think I hear her heartbeat
breathing life into the forest,
as she softly shelters me
from the hot August sun.
This poem is copyright (©) Rebecca St. Pierre 2026
About the Writer
Rebecca St. Pierre
Rebecca writes poetry, photographs nature, and creates artwork in Ontario, Canada. Her writing has appeared in a variety of publications, including The Solitary Daisy, YES Mag: The Science Magazine for Adventurous Minds, The Lit Platform, and The Fur-Bearing Trout...and Other True Tales of Canadian Life. She is inspired by Nature and the brilliant young people in her family. You will find more of Rebecca’s work at her website, WordFlightAndLight.mypixieset.com.
