Words of a redwood tree float through my ears
They are not the letters we know, speak or write
They do not know sadness, happiness, or fears
No, they transcend mere mortal to a greater height
I can hear them dancing from shadow to shadow
They float like forest dust on a ray of sunlight
From green canopies these words drop below
Their stillness not revealing a haunting plight
In our world of numbers, 96% of them were cut
Silenced, the redwood groves faded from us
Drowned out by axe, clank and wagon wheel rut
Any cry of caution taken by the ocean’s gust
Now I linger in the 4% left behind, trying to hear
What does a redwood say and how do I learn
Am I not the adolescent mind, the dwarfed one here
Lost in my own short existence, time I cannot discern
Words of a redwood tree float through my ears
They rise above the chaos of my surrounding boundary
Remind me of a time I have not known in all my years
Yet within their exchange, I find myself sleeping soundly
I understand something here, my own words fail to share
