Redwood bark oozes the morning downpour through spongy fibers,
scattered drops free fall from high in the forest canopy,
sagging cowls of moss drip from thick maple trunks
the forest is leaden and still,
but as the sun sinks
light floods the understory,
luminescent fingers stretch eastward among the tall trunks,
unmasking sluggish moisture-laden motes aglow
rising and falling
gentle as breathing.
— Mary Thibodeaux Lentz
This article appears in Arcata Rises Up for Fire Victims.