Amidst the redwoods finite upward stretch,
streams of light grace darkened ground
where golden beams and deepened greens together catch
the promise of new sapling can be found.

Between these giants’ towering cast
that sovereign sunlights aid,
mighty limbs direct where any rain might pass,
and whether light gives way to shade.

His feeble roots take what they may,
with time enough to grasp only shallow sheet of earth.
And though by slightest breeze he’ll fro and sway,
he takes protection by his elders timely girth.

And, if looked upon by eyes with mind that couldn't know,
it may seem these ancient elder trees never had to, like the sapling grow.
For the way they stand against wind and gale it might serve as a surprise,
that they hadn’t always stood that way, that they like sapling, had to rise.

It was by passing years their rugged hide is earned and just.
And while saplings' leafy shade may be a lighter green,
and though his tawny bark be invisible to their upward eyes as of thus,
against the elders' ever richer jade, lest by my gaze, he can be seen.

Moons pass while sapling takes only what his patriarchs bestow,
It’s with patience he waits for the dusky day that he too shall finally grow.

Then all at once- he reaches and, with casted shadow of his own,
no more is he cloaked by his elders grander silhouette.
Alas, his quiet presence is timely to them shown,
they will see this sapling yet!