A body of flawless strength,
the humble Sequoia
stands, poised, of faithful,
innumerable years.
Elegant, majestic branches
rise up – naked adornment;
crooked as witches’ fingers.
Won’t you tell me your secret, little seed?
Appease my awe; Fathom
the incomprehensible,
divulge enlightenment
upon another inexplicable reality:
why does your tree
live longer than a human?
