Rapture of The Redwoods

Rapture of The Redwoods

The ocean breeze is coming in,
and tender is it's touch.
It gently spreads the thickest mist,
on a spruce grouse and her clutch.

The air it brings is cool and damp
with a chill that has a bite,
and then I see the porch lamps glow;
its haloed yellow light.

A small log cabin I call home
lay hidden in these woods
and all around the giants stand,
in soft green covered hoods.

They're reaching for the heavens,
the universe beyond;
all the way up to the stars,
we share a common bond.

I have loved the quiet dark,
the swaying of the boughs
and all the things that usher peace
in nature's sacred vows.

And in the end when I am gone
as shadows block the light,
I will reach up to the heavens,
like the Redwoods in the night.


T.L. Finch