Like tree rings each layer

speaks of galaxies, 

as if the dusty breath of 

stars had seasons.


With your own roots trailing, 

you fold before this giant, 

murmuring weighty 

things —

it is a solemn prayer,

filled with bent and broken



As you wait for an answer 

the wind 

whistles through its fractures

so that

words fall like pebbles,

like laughter,

like leaves tickling your cheeks:


Love, there is only this — 

give way.


We are each of us rooted

in a timeless light,

unchanged by the



Play with us.


Give way to the


of unbroken things.

Categories: Uncategorized


  1. Oh Tricia, this one lifts me up. I am a devotee of redwood trees and this poem evokes them for me, with the enormity of the way their spirits mingle with mine and with all that is. You caught that in words. Extraordinary. Thank you.


  2. I always wondered if trees spoke to anyone else the way they do to me. I see now they do. This is so many layers of beautiful. Thank you for sharing it with us.


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