The Redwoods
An eye opens, then another,
to the call to prayer
that is the redwood forest
and its found cathedral
of bedazzlement.
An expansion of green tracing limbs
arc over the hidden ocean of sky
while rushing wind through the canopy
tousles my hair and cools the fever
in my brain.
Those huge trees that stand with quiet grace
wear the moss of life.
The redwoods create a dark mystic circle
in which salmon dart in quicksilver streams
and I hear the ragged heartbeat
of my own breath.
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Heather Sager lives in Illinois, USA. Her poetry has most recently appeared in Sandpiper, The Wild Word, Remington Review, Cacti Fur, Third Wednesday, CircleShow, Ariel Chart, and Northwest Indiana Literary Journal. Heather also writes short fiction.
Amethyst Review 