The redwood that now befriends the sun, stars,
And moon, was once the plaything of the earth,
Betraying an old worn-out road to far
And ancient glories one with every birth.
Creeping did it blossom from infantile
Seed, sprouting shyly from its wormy bed;
With the love and hate of nature virile
'Til its tender stalk for sturdy bark shed;
Ascending at a snail's pace unruffled
By beasts of sorts and cries of wind and hail,
It's shell shielding a heart vulnerable,
Yearning upward for the heavens availed.
Having kissed the denizens of the sky,
The redwood calls to man with him to fly.
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