To Be Seen

To Be Seen

Outside my back windows are Douglas fir trees.
So familiar, I call them friends.

Tall, steadfast, and strong with a tinge of whimsical
Revealed when their limbs shadow-dance on my walls.

We share a symbiotic relationship to give breath.
I Inhale their exhale, a way of life on planet Earth.

I listen to a wind chime ping, watch boughs shimmy and shake.
Trunks rock unified to the beat of a whispered song.

Emerald jewels, nature’s beauty.
Deep roots, perhaps a soul I cannot see?

A doe hides her fawn beneath their boughs, at their feet.
I hear a pulse, a murmur… be still/listen, be still/listen

Numerous in number make them common, ordinary.
But to me, they are extraordinary.

I see them. But do they see me?
Isn’t that all anyone wants, to be seen and understood?


Poem By Wendy A. Miller


Wendy A. Miller lives in the suburbs of Portland, Oregon. Her essay, “Mom Conquers Volcano,” appeared in “Luck and Opportunity” an anthology of short stories published by The Personal Story Publishing Project and read in their 6-Minute Stories Podcast. Other work was published in Adelaide Literary Magazine, Quail Bell Magazine, and Grown and Flown, where her essay ranked 14 in their “Parent Best Posts of 2020.” For more of her writing, see