Just a poem to past the time...
Sequoia Tree
It was a seed
planted two inches
from the surface
in Houston, Texas.
The beaming sun sends heat waves
in the air
and through the ground, encasing the dry
land.
Yearning for drops
of rain to douse the parched soil,
but the course,
grainy dirt enwraps the stunted growth of the seed
as tumble weed
pounces, step after step on the topsoil
that it shares
with a spiny cactus.
Another seed, same
as the other
but in Sequoia
National Park, California
rest deep in the
ground. Open land spreads
in every
direction. The little seed became a sprout.
Shade from
surroundings couldn’t block it from the sun;
beaming through
clouds and past branches to the sprout.
Water daily caused
it to thrive, constant footsteps on the topsoil
couldn’t hinder
the sprout from its destined
three hundred-foot
stature or forty-foot waistline
with plump roots
that took strong hold
to the moist nutritional
soil within the forest.
The seed was no
longer a sprout
but a giant,
blooming sequoia tree.
Song of the Day
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