The great dark trunks rose about them like a wall.

A few large trunks rose from the underbrush, but these were dead and charred.

Her trunk rose once more in an effort to cry a warning, then slowly, almost gracefully, dropped to the ground.

Here and there, the leafless trunk of a dead oak tree rose from the grass.

The monstrous trunks rose so high that the lowest limbs started twenty feet above my head.

Its trunk, supported on a pyramid of aerial roots, rose twenty feet without a branch.

The huge, convoluted trunk rose through the surrounding trees.

The trunk rose quickly upward into the house.

The trunks rose like columns of smoke through the greenery, smooth and massive.

The smaller ones grew straight up from mud or water, the trunks rising several meters before branching.