Redwoods, Redwoods

Redwoods Redwoods

Redwoods, redwoods so sad it is truly to see you become deadwoods.

To go back in time to see you in your prime, I would if i could, yet alas that I cannot do.

When I stand below you, how miniscule i do feel.

Not by just your size or to the great heights to that of which you do rise, but merely the number of years it took you to grow.

You are alive years and years, hundreds even thousands.

To  be alive that long, to me a man, I’m sad to say maybe related to those who cut you all away.

Truly at awe beneath each and every one a gift. I truly do see redwoods, redwoods. You must live strong for my great-grand children to see.

Redwoods, redwoods. Long after they cut your tree gone may your roots live on.

And on.

Live long and live strong and become the majestic redwood of so long gone.

A Poem Written by Joesph Walter

Mckinleyville, California