Eavesdropping on the Redwoods
I heard a gaggle of tough young redwoods
trying to get the ancients’ attention
but the elder trees were not interested in prattle,
the youngins played in the quick-step breeze
limbs raised cowboy-on-a-bronc style
flexing boughs wildly, whipping in the wind.
The whipper snappers did not give up,
conducting rhythm for afternoon westerlies,
taunting the delicate saplings
to be pushy, to tickle the big guys
with itchy sprouts through every crack, crevice.
I hesitated standing on the soft cushion
of their wooded home,
the Redwoods didn’t bother with me
didn’t care if I understand their symphony,
swaying though their green fingers
in keys and timbre foreign to my ears,
They seemed quite happy to not notice me at all.
© Sharon Lope Mooney, “Eavesdropping on the Redwoods”, originally published in Euphony Journal, UChicago’s Literary Magazine, ed. Julia Dillman, Chicago, IL, Winter 2023