If I were a tree

If I were a tree, I imagine myself seeking damp soil. Earlier, I had begun prying up my roots, one at a time, now many of my key veins are above ground. The deepest and the most important ones remained intact.

But I have swiveled around, and have started replanting myself in a different direction. I feel a little faint because of the loss of the nutrients in the ground and a little shaky from being transplanted.

My new view is lovely. I can see exciting new horizons, and I am sure that this is a better position for my roots. At least for a year. But sometimes I wonder how I will do in this strange new place.

A la London.