in reaching upward . gravity can be defied . and time grows quiet
they didn’t notice . me, the flowers were busy . reaching for the sun
with winter branches . free of its leaves, the tree still . cannot reach the moon
nothing says winter quite like the stoic reaching of snow-laden boughs
reaching toward us they may be offering help or asking for it
we once climbed mountains searching for enlightenment now we just build them
an instant captured slows time, but only briefly still, we keep reaching
sometimes it’s a stretch making sense of a story then you stop reaching