Hemlocked Heart

Oh Redwood, Redwood,

Sequoia in the quiet forest,

The ancient, the giants,

they do stand before us,



Enthroned within ferns,

alight jays and thrushes,

Forgotten temples to gods,

as the morning sky blushes.



Redwoods feel each day turning

to night, clear and crisp,

Collecting fog and raising stillness,

hiding tricksy wisps,



Have long known drought and flame,

as they stand through ages they wade,

Mountain lions in the shadows

and salamanders in the shade,



The moment full and endless soaring

The Redwood song is never roaring,

It rolls in like the gentle tide,

swaying all with calm and quiet.