Poem: The Reach


Clings to a rock

Root suckles at soil

Leaf stretches for warmth.

Where moss can grow

Footholds of green

Press on gray.

Love’s caress breathes your scent

Stuck to you as bark along the branch.

Wood, too wet to burn

Smokes out the flies

—Noisy pests that seek blood.


tunnel discover
The Tunnel

*inspired by trees growing out of rock at

Western Washington University’s arboretum tunnel