My branches spread, I reach great height. My bark is great and i never bite.

I trade in debts of breath and name, a flicker trapped in a stolen frame. I dwell where the path and the forest part, in the hollow pulse of a mountain's heart. Trust my gift and lose your way; I am the debt you can never pay.

Two: A friend to behold, close to the ground Two more: Early, transmission of sound Preferred by growers, green-thumbed and root-bound

Bird is it. The Bible, too. And a nineties acquiescence brings nostalgia to you.

I have seas that cannot flow, fields of dust where nothing can grow. I am the master of the moving deep, The one eye open while the giants sleep.