Redwood Forest


I sit by myself in the redwood forest,
feeling alone and insignificant,
a wolf howling in the distance.

The girl with the red jacket runs, blonde hair 
flowing, clutching a rag doll,
a boy with button black eyes.  

Raggedy Andy he is.

There is blue sky, but the trees, whose huge boles
block the view on all sides, grow together 
at the top, blotting the blue. 

Green clouds of foliage betop the colonnades of 
brown. The day becomes electric, thunder over 
the forest, muffled by the trees.  

Her face appears above me.  
I now hear crying as her tears
begin to fall, dripping upon my shoulders.

She has dropped the doll, reaches into the tall 
grass to retrieve it, her fingers
wrapping around my waist, lifting me through the 

canopy, up, up past the stalks and stems till she 
holds me close. She smiles and then turns toward 
home. I am safe and warm.

Behind us, forgotten, a rag doll remains ---

He sits by himself in the redwood forest,
feeling alone and insignificant,
a wolf howling in the distance.

Raggedy Andy he is.

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Redwood Trees

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