Falling cones from upper branches
scatter across the forest floor.
At the foot of the redwood,
Wildflowers thrive among ash.
Through cycles of time—
spire seeds, fallen blooms, and
windborne dust return to the soil,
their essence carried upward,
woven into the sentinel’s grain.
Standing tall—our dear one
is heartwood amongst old friends.
Hear his voice as branches stir.
Catch the flash of his smile in
sun light filtering down;
see stars dance across his
dew-laced mane.
Feel him near in the evergreen hush.
—•0•—
Nov 18, 2025
Nov 18, 2025 at 10:38 PM UTC
Falling cones from upper branches
scatter across the forest floor.
At the foot of the redwood,
Wildflowers thrive among ash.
Through cycles of time—
spire seeds, fallen blooms, and
windborne dust return to the soil,
their essence carried upward,
woven into the sentinel’s grain.
Standing tall—our dear one
is heartwood amongst old friends.
Hear his voice as branches stir.
Catch the flash of his smile in
sun light filtering down;
see stars dance across his
dew-laced mane.
Feel him near in the evergreen hush.
—•0•—
Christion was a member of Cal Fire’s Mendocino Unit. Those he left behind laid him to rest before a young redwood tree.
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