Redwoods

Redwoods tadasana without a bend

And lift their many arms to praise the day.

I, so far below and meek before them

Stand a little straighter, attempt to emulate.

Their upright being in itself is prayer.

The wind does not ripple their soft needles –

It is tranquil today and lets them sing

Without harmonies of adversity

But I imagine, though do not know, this:

Like mountains unmoving, their best below

The seeable surface, these trees are strong.

Gusts won’t break their prayerful meditation.

They sing: thank you for sparing us today

And thank you for testing us tomorrow.

Redwoods: silent and sundrenched

Unmovingly greet me, the foreigner.

They are not unfriendly

Neither do they smile down upon me.

They are indifferent, as all strong things

Must be. The sun hits their soft needles

And I wonder if they let themselves feel warmth.