There’s this tree that I used to go to when I was young. The branches were low enough for me to climb on and go up, up, up until I found myself too high and cried for my mom to get me down. Of course, since I was in primary school, it wasn’t actually very high. But I
Amanda Lystra
the flood never stopped rising.
the sky never gave up the sun.
the dove with the olive branch
probably tired itself
searching for impossible land
and drowned.
noah lay among the old bones
of his two-of-each-kind animals
and dreamt up a world that was
only three parts water,
where god mustered bravado
to start all over again.
Branching out into the sky, a tall oak stands. Its majestic emerald leaves shimmer with the wetness of the dew in the early morning light. A true beauty, breathtaking. Not a one thing could even come close to compare. Its branches, like wings, cover the pale sky.
syd
Thoughts like paths branch off in time
Where one ends another unfurls a line
Ending is to beginning as stopping is to running
Encircles limbs, puppets even the most thoughtful master
Deliberate or random, doesn’t really matter
Yawns still sigh like butterflies, wild flights upon the wind
Ruby moved the tree branch out of her path as she walked along side Michael. They hadn’t been home in days. Lost in her thoughts, Ruby remembered the night before when they both slept on the soft mossy ground in the middle of a forest and Michael wondered out loud if anyone had noticed they were gone yet. “Probably not.” She replied in her mind. They had came a long way from home, Michael and Ruby didn’t even know where they were anymore. Much less what they were looking for or why they were running away.
Meesha
i don’t want to write about branch. because i don’t know what is bran
The branches overhead gently swayed in the October wind. Ruddy orange leaves shook to the ground like flecks of autumn pepper. Beneath my feet, I can hear the crunch of the trees’ last words before frost.
The branches creaked as the cool air brushed against them. It was eerie and alone. I was frightened and so was she. We didn’t know where to go. They were coming. They were going to get us. The branches were a sign. The sign that they were only right next to us.
I walked through the woods with slow, even steps. The late October air was crisp and fresh. Each breath felt like a kiss to the lungs. Under my feet, I could hear ruddy orange leaves crunching. Tree branches swung above my head softly, rustling ever so gently.
Susanna
Trees have branches like families have relatives. Every leaf is a possibility for the future.
Samadhi
I once had a branch in the woods. It was a small, ordinary branch, but it made for a great walking stick.
I thought about the marshmallows that would fit on the end. They would have to be very wide since the stick was so large…but wouldn’t that be a beautiful treat!
I am holding out this olive branch, crying for you to ignore it completely and take my wrist instead. Begging for your hands to circle my waist, wishing for you to close the gap to breathe me in. The moment in the morning, when you wake, the way that earth and ice melt together with a flicker of sun. All in silence, with the words unspoken ringing in your sleepy eyes, promising without sound that the red dye of our hearts has run together, and we will never be the same.
To extend. Spread your fingertips like awakening spring leaves. Stretch those resistant musty roots.
Sarah Catherine Hlavaty
decorative something living off the main trunk a new chance new life a helper a younger version of the main tree a support system
Jen
I am nothing but a creature of the night; born under the cover of darkness and destined to live there henceforth. The only light I see is the silver slips of moonlight, tracing the lines of the branches on the trees. That’s all I am, and that’s all I will ever be. A creature of the night.
There’s this tree that I used to go to when I was young. The branches were low enough for me to climb on and go up, up, up until I found myself too high and cried for my mom to get me down. Of course, since I was in primary school, it wasn’t actually very high. But I
the flood never stopped rising.
the sky never gave up the sun.
the dove with the olive branch
probably tired itself
searching for impossible land
and drowned.
noah lay among the old bones
of his two-of-each-kind animals
and dreamt up a world that was
only three parts water,
where god mustered bravado
to start all over again.
Branching out into the sky, a tall oak stands. Its majestic emerald leaves shimmer with the wetness of the dew in the early morning light. A true beauty, breathtaking. Not a one thing could even come close to compare. Its branches, like wings, cover the pale sky.
Thoughts like paths branch off in time
Where one ends another unfurls a line
Ending is to beginning as stopping is to running
Encircles limbs, puppets even the most thoughtful master
Deliberate or random, doesn’t really matter
Yawns still sigh like butterflies, wild flights upon the wind
Ruby moved the tree branch out of her path as she walked along side Michael. They hadn’t been home in days. Lost in her thoughts, Ruby remembered the night before when they both slept on the soft mossy ground in the middle of a forest and Michael wondered out loud if anyone had noticed they were gone yet. “Probably not.” She replied in her mind. They had came a long way from home, Michael and Ruby didn’t even know where they were anymore. Much less what they were looking for or why they were running away.
i don’t want to write about branch. because i don’t know what is bran
fhgfysesuedfosfusugsugugYQRHIOW\LKGDJVM;SOKEOIDIGJJSFGHJFGKJFUJHjdghekrhgeilryujsfho;seujgggwhepi9tyw orwehfskhusjggjsh oiro9w uo 8u’uwo urowu r rioweutoiwutow 8uto8r8weuto8iuw u,fjsz ksmxkxoigdzurfijvshdkdjsikvdoihfh cj sdfsihgnmsnxnkfugrhncwsyruhjfjhwsjfvnmhdukjf wosijfiushjdgnhskuyfhdndksuzshfuiwsygzbdnxfiwsukjxfcksfguhsnjdxkifyuhselifoyh shjfughiszmcdhfjvduxhgfiskuficjshfvneksgfkdghjdvfks jkxjfkudhfughvnkdjfdhgjnjdhfudjhgfdjdhfkudhgjsjc iduosidugiodugiduicxrfo8ejfikdofgiudgh ifuoidfjididg dugoridguiudugudufuisofudufosuif eisushe oeiuiegheiduut irouo8edfidcjdidjoiue
branch? again? why? oh, god i don’t know
The branches overhead gently swayed in the October wind. Ruddy orange leaves shook to the ground like flecks of autumn pepper. Beneath my feet, I can hear the crunch of the trees’ last words before frost.
The branches creaked as the cool air brushed against them. It was eerie and alone. I was frightened and so was she. We didn’t know where to go. They were coming. They were going to get us. The branches were a sign. The sign that they were only right next to us.
full
mean
field
country
countryside
city
I walked through the woods with slow, even steps. The late October air was crisp and fresh. Each breath felt like a kiss to the lungs. Under my feet, I could hear ruddy orange leaves crunching. Tree branches swung above my head softly, rustling ever so gently.
Trees have branches like families have relatives. Every leaf is a possibility for the future.
I once had a branch in the woods. It was a small, ordinary branch, but it made for a great walking stick.
I thought about the marshmallows that would fit on the end. They would have to be very wide since the stick was so large…but wouldn’t that be a beautiful treat!
I am holding out this olive branch, crying for you to ignore it completely and take my wrist instead. Begging for your hands to circle my waist, wishing for you to close the gap to breathe me in. The moment in the morning, when you wake, the way that earth and ice melt together with a flicker of sun. All in silence, with the words unspoken ringing in your sleepy eyes, promising without sound that the red dye of our hearts has run together, and we will never be the same.
To extend. Spread your fingertips like awakening spring leaves. Stretch those resistant musty roots.
decorative something living off the main trunk a new chance new life a helper a younger version of the main tree a support system
I am nothing but a creature of the night; born under the cover of darkness and destined to live there henceforth. The only light I see is the silver slips of moonlight, tracing the lines of the branches on the trees. That’s all I am, and that’s all I will ever be. A creature of the night.