GENERAL SHERMAN, KING OF THE SEQUOIA TREES

I  LISTEN, REALISING HOW LITTLE I KNOW.

HUGGING THIS TREE LIGHTS A FIRE WITHIN.

MY EAR TO HIS TRUNK I HEAR THE STORIES OF OLD.

WHISPERING THE MAGIC OF HIS CREATION,

THE EVOLUTION OF HIS ENORMITY.

THE FAIRIES AND SPRITES THAT KEEP HIM ALIVE,

FILLING MY HEAD WITH THE BEAUTY AND JOY HE HAS KNOWN,

A MINIATURE ME STANDS BY THIS GIGANTIC TREE,

A SHRINE TO OTHER SEQUOIA.

MY ANXIETIES SEDATED BY SURROUNDING HUES,

A FEELING OF REVERENCE FOR THIS GRAND OLD MAN,

WHO HAS SAT STILL FOR MILLENNIA , GUARDING THE FRONTIER,

TOUCHED BY THE SOULS OF GENERATIONS.

GENERAL SHERMAN, I SALUTE THE JOY YOU GIVE, YOU WISE OLD MAN.

FIONA

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Author: wordsworthsmuse

Lover of clouds and writer of poetry.

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