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The Redwoods

By Ruth Abrams

Soaring as rockets trapped in ascent
reaching toward the heavens.
Anchored in earth which by a miracle
holds them tightly to her bosom.
Mighty sentinels majestically stand.

Yet neither threat nor cannon here assemble.
Silence permeates and we are entranced
while standing in the confines of the ancients.

As in a house of prayer the need arises
to softly whisper in this enchanted cathedral.
May you be here eternally, my friends,
to nurture lost souls and humble the eagles.

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