They grow across a narrow strip of land
Along the North American west coast
Where cool ocean fog rolls over the sand
Giving the moisture that they need the most.
Growing with a huge trunk, straight and tall
With thick bark of cinnamon and rust
Some stand as the tallest living trees of all
Their woven roots anchored in the dust.
Within the Sequoia’s deeply fissured skin
High levels of natural tannin shield the core
Ensuring that the rot and flame cannot win
Or the lightening breaks its age-old spine.
They don’t count days and years to stay alive
Nonetheless outlast civilization and dynasties
A giant may live two millennia and thrive
Still growing through time with countless rings.
The tree’s rich, red wood is unique and fine
So prized for homes, for fences and beams
In timeless promise, it stood in the frontline
To build up cities and support railway schemes.
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