I Kicked a Tree in Anger

I kicked a tree in anger. I've been so mad this week, so on my walk, I kicked a tree. Puhg looked at me incredulously. "Hey!" he said like I was a misbehaved puppy. He was right. As soon as my sneaker hit bark, I felt worse. "What did that tree do to you?" Puhg asked.

I thought about our guide from the Amazon. He showed us the inside of a rubber tree, but slicing it with a machete. Then he covered the wound with dirt and said "thank you." He said trees talk, maybe to everything, but certainly to other trees. I think so. Everyone knows about mushrooms and their telephone lines. I used to love mushrooms growing up. I felt so close to them when I found a stray white bulb in a lawn pocket. In the grocery store, I'd shove my thumb nail into the dead ones in cartons. I liked how it felt. They were corpses, so I figured it was okay. I'd make X's on their skin. Sometimes when I see a mushroom now (small, red in this neighborhood), I say hello. Maybe they've heard of me from an aunt.

I apologized to the tree. I make a habit of not touching anything outside anymore. I open the front door with my butt and keep my hands at my sides. But I touched this tree where I'd hurt it. I said sorry. Then I hugged it. I hugged this tree for ten seconds. I felt it accept my apology.