Oh, redwood rising to the sky, your lines become a man
As tracing up you with my eye, I see your branches fan.
Your ancient trunk stands straight and strong, you seem to brush the sky
As silently you sing a song of centuries gone by.
I lie here on your bed of brown and think of long ago,
Before this road led to a town, before this life we know.
You still were here, you'll still be here in centuries to come
When lips that sing your song so clear are silent, yes, and dumb.
It is at the suggestion that this mortal soon may die
That I generate the question, "How straight and strong stand I?"
I have no long and noble past. My seeds remain unsown.
What shadow will my being cast in times as yet unknown?
And yet I feel my spirt rise in poetry and song,
Unfettered by my common size, unbound by plans gone wrong.
I've shared you with a man I love; his shadow touches mine.
As long as he remembers me, I will be divine.