The Dawn Redwood

That afternoon I simply sat down at her feet,
by the rough bark of her massive trunk,
wanting only the shelter of her giant size,

the soothing quiet of her shade,
wanting only to sleep like a small animal
among her ancient, majestic arms.

Leaning my back into the slope
of her trunk, closing my eyes as sun glinted
through the web of her heaviest boughs,

I was not in this world – I was inside my dream
of rest and comfort, inside the longing
for tenderness that never leaves us

for long. That afternoon the tree was lifting
her children into the wind, her female cones
now dusted with pollen and hiding

their new seeds, readying them for flight.
I was dimly aware that soon enough
I would have to stand up again and walk on,

but not yet. Not yet. It might take hours to let
her whole stillness seep into my body.
It might take years.