Anastasia Voight Texas, USA The wood wound path’s detritus is smirched with green-grit flotsam. As our steps disturb the verdant dust, even the newest jetsam is chalked with chartreuse lust. Such delicto flagrante would disgust if done by most any other. But a tree is a dissembling lover. No love-thrust, no convulsed spatter betrays arborous…