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Children play on the stumps of the fallen giants, mocked in death by the glitter of disco lights and the raucous cheers of drunks.

Asphalt long melted round their dead roots where once they hovered over what is today the RV dump station, the lit restrooms, and every car and truck that ever was.

They stood tall and strong and bright in the sun.
Ancient even long ago.
Relics of bygone time.
Even so long ago.

The Ranger will tell you some nights, around a warm fire, on wooden stools, all about it.
Once there were giant trees even here.
They were alive.
Then men came.

Charged with building a civilization.
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they toppled the great giants
to build banks, message parlors, and prisons.

In their guilt and because of the rage of others, people cordoned off parks where the giants are to be left alone to entertain the children of their enemies.

We drive to them in our shiny cars and carve our lover's names in them. 
We record their many moods unknowingly in the digital memories of our smart phones, and share these images in our favorite social medium.

We buy t-shirts at the Visitor Center and listen to advice on which of the many paved roads we might travel to see them best from our car windows as we drive by on our way to lunch.

Back at camp the smoke of many fires makes it difficult to breathe.
The noises of auto camping drown our memories of ancient majesty and remind us it's time to cook a real campers dinner and have some wine before bed.

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