It would be a good place to stay for a long time, to watch the leaves curl and uncurl each year, watch the branches thicken and lichen invade fresh territory. I lay beneath a clump of mistletoe today and the breeze kissed me. Gray bark plates and cynipid wasp galls, swelling: I would like to be planted beneath one of these one day, to have this flesh turn to a pulse of deepening green in spring leaves, to have ground squirrels burrow in the softer ground that I become, their hearts beating between my ribs.