Fallen In Love

We know that trees reach... Ignoring the substance of Earth and seeking the damp and the light, the wet on the way, to the light on some far side, a far side with promise of light when all here is dark. All moments are rooted within themselves; and in themselves they find Reach Past shadows, the understory of reach, following slants and slivers of shine: first charcoal, now jades, following gold to the promise of blue. reach, reach each, each moment reach, reach each, each moment of life. To skies seen above; to skies believed below. But did you know?: a fallen Fraser a felled fig a downed dogwood a horizontal horse chestnut may reach all the same like long-dead ancestors whose stories and myths are told over cut-split-spark wood late at night. Carrying stories, wisdom, laughter, & lessons... ...and their meanings teach you ...and their meanings reach you beyond death, from another shore. For a good reach can outlast death, can outfox time, can outdo death. So, too the timber whose roots kiss the air, whose leaves've lost sight of the light, continues its sacred reach... If you look across the gap to the distant shore you may yet see the teachings of trees uprooted and rotting. The teachings of trees so muted, so not-Spring. There! Over the burble, retired from reaching but still she is teaching the value of reaching; becoming a bridge that we each might reach, tiptoeing on beech, to the far 'n long-promised beach.