i’ve seen fires in a million shades of crimson, orange, and gold, but none of them as explosive as the little grey lightning bolts shooting through your roots. they say wisdom is won and never borrowed, but i would give anything to borrow the lessons these mercury lines could teach. like ancient branches dancing on a starlit shore, they shimmer and hug your sides as you tuck them behind your horizon. like the sagacious rings on a storied tree, i count the years that have brought us here, ever-growing, season-to-season, bursting with seemingly endless life. do not hide these trophies, for they have been rightly earned. and maybe in time, i will earn my place as well.