I wake up when it's getting light out and the birds are beginning their morning chirps and trills. I gaze up through the window-screen opening in my bedroom wall towards the high trunks and leaves of the tulip poplars outside the tiny dwelling my mom and I call home. Now that it's summer, the leaves are full and luxurious. It's still cool at this hour. I love this mountain forest and these tulip poplars. I know the brace and curve of every branch I see from my bed in winter. I love how in early spring the branches wear the barest, most imperceptible hint of green for weeks and weeks, then sprout tiny buds for a few days, then become a lush impenetrable wall of leaves almost overnight.
Diana Leafe Christian
