To Hug Sequoias is to Hope

by theoystermangrove

In the overwhelming rush
and tide of words she spoke

“Don’t these grandfather
sequoias make you want
to wrap your arms around
the bulk of their girth
press them to your heart
and draw out loneliness?”

He felt his wick enliven
as if he were a tree himself
once dormant in winter
like a farouche black bear
guarding solitude from
the hiker’s cumbersome noise.

A weight lifted from
his eyes and a new
love began to grow.

“You are the tree
I wish to hang upon
my hope.”