by Michael DuBon Copyright ©2026 Oh little trees, medium trees, and big trees, do I beseech can you please send a message to my love to come back to me, please just drop her a line on the televine. Yet all patience abandoned in the face of silent leaves, I stroke relatively soft birch flesh, imagine your strong legs. Sooner still I tongue a puckered knot tasting your lips; my hand massages the back of your smooth trunk as I lick and kiss and lick and kiss. Though my