This poem is about Sequoia Beauty we saw on a visit to the California Forest.
The grandeur of mountains
Majestic old trees
In photos we snatch them
As quick as you please
And yet not a picture
Nor words on a page
Can capture the beauty
Or essence or age
Imagine the thousands
In centuries past
Who likewise we’re awestruck
From first sight to last
Just think of the hubris
That dares name a tree
That was a mere sapling
When Adam was three
Not photos not paintings
But perhaps just a sigh
Can tell you more clearly
What reflects in my eyes