Sequoia Souvenir
I sit at the feet of giants
As I write this
Humbled in the presence
Of cedars and sequoias
Magnificent pillars propping up
An impossibly blue heaven
Tourists trickle between their toes
Like ants from all over the world
On this Easter Sunday
While the ever-devout mosses
Face their northern Mecca
In perpetual silent prayer
A man strolls by
Carrying chunks of red bark
And I can’t help but smile
Because the only souvenirs
I’ll be bringing back with me
Are photos to scrapbook
And the memories of
This viridescent breeze
Its ocean-whisper through
The towering treetops
The glitter of sunlit snow
A velvet-antlered mule deer
Blossoming dogwood
And this poem.
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