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he was becoming a tree he belonged to the mythof the trees trem-u-lous "with out permission of the soul" da Vinci said that the tree loved the earth and the earth took joy and delight from the trees devotion came the gift of the wind and there were others. he never really knew to whom the leaves belonged. clung to and annoyed the tree ritually pouted once a year retracted favor a fascinating diversion. "bloweth were it listeth aqnd thou hearest the sound therof but canst not tell whence it came whither it goeth" even this failed to placate he used to wander were there were few trees in the grasses. he knew the wind as well as any tree and he'd say so he liked to visit he liked to sleep in the visitors bed welcomed to the bright warm aroma