Tree Mend Us

Our soles know the forest best.

Redwood heights lift our eyes.

We smell the ancient barks

and branches, hear centuries of birds,

but it’s the ground, the matted

leaf, needle, and root

that pads the path

calling us home.

In the cathedral

of long shadowed trunks

we unlikely priests press

the weight of the next step.

As part of the dance,

the panorama smiles

at what God sees

in the climbing pilgrim.

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