Sequoia Grove Poem by Kathryne B. Roberts
Sequoia Grove
Rising from the rot of ancestral decay.
Moss draped sunlit columns
Encircle the sanctum within.
Silently I enter;
Into the ancient burial ground.
Only Indian summer awaits my despair.
Weeping I kneel;
Before the amputated altar stump.
Amongst the sepia sequoia cones.
Whispering I pray;
Beside the fungus stained wooden dead.
Beneath the eaglet's cradle overhead.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/28/2026 7:32:03 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
