By Barbara Bloom
So far north here, sometimes
it feels like we’re teetering
on the very edge of the Earth
and into the region the ancient maps
called Terra Incognita.
Hard to get a solid footing.
Chill wind through the giant trees
that have seen it all. The branches
of the western red cedar
with its delicate tracery of needles
lift and fall
like a ragged breath.
Copyright 2023 Bloom
Barbara Bloom grew up in California and on a remote coastal homestead in British Columbia, Canada. She returned to California to attend the University of California, Santa Cruz and made her home there for over forty years, where she taught composition and creative writing at Cabrillo College. Her poems have appeared in various literary journals, including Phren-Z, Catamaran Review, Raven Review, and Adventures Northwest. She has published two books of poetry, On the Water Meridian and Pulling Down the Heavens. She now lives in Bellingham, Washington, with her musician husband, Fred Winterbottom.
All work by Barbara Bloom
