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Martin Mikelberg Aug 2020
With the fires burning today, there is not too much known about the combs that fall to the floor of the forests where they reside.  Actually the seeds are released and free to regenerate because of the fires.   So the journey of the redwood tree will continue as mother nature has provided.
William Marr May 2020
everything seems so natural
so straightforward
as if there were no oppression
bending or twisting
in this world

innocent hands
all joyously stretching
to reach the sky
Pyrrha Feb 2019
I think asking for a soulmate is too much
Perhaps I should seek instead a kindred spirit
I'll find one along my journey across the sea
A fellow traveler, wanderer, foreigner
Someone else who sees the beauty in the little things
Who finds their passions in what others deem to be lesser
They will be like a sunflower in a rose bush;
A willow tree in a forest of redwoods

My moth amongst butterflies
since i was small,
i wanted to live forever.

every dawn is a hit of reality
and i’m eager for another.
and another.
and another.

i exhale, my cool breath hitting the air -
flavored with desperation;
is it so wrong to want more?

i wilt, only slightly, thinking about the end.

when i slouch in my chair,
i feel my heart shift closer to the soil at my feet

and i do not sink in the midst
of the flood -
i do not lose myself in the rainwater
pooling at my ankles -
i do not clench my eyes shut,
fearing where i will go
when i do

i need this more than you,
i swear.

and when i feel the back of the chair
digging into my spine
or the quiet, creeping ache of age
tugging on strands of my hair,
i resist; i deny it

the adrenaline of dawn’s kiss
is my defense against the rot,
but the night reminds me
of being small with skinned knees and a medicated wish.

i surrender, subject to the infestation of memory -
yet, my oldest prayer continues to echo
in every inch of this room:

sempervirens, sempervirens
(always green, always green)
first draft
AnnaMarie Jenema Feb 2016
Rising to meet the sun,
A relative of the wind and time,
His branches reach out,
Stretching from his slumber.
The forest flames awaken fear,
Into the heartwood at his core,
He gives the thought a shake.
He would like to see the spring,
After the falling snow glazes the forest.
A resident of nature,
The Redwood withstands it all.
Joe Cottonwood May 2015
Grant me deep roots.
Solid branches.
Let the fires pass me by.
Let generations of squirrels and blue jays
     hop on my limbs.
Let me breathe fog, chew sunlight
     and look down
over centuries.
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