Its bark is red,
not brown instead,
like many other trees.
It is home to many things
like birds and bugs and bees.
There it stands so tall,
so proud.
And when it falls,
it falls so loud.
I’ve heard that sound too many a time,
people have killed them, yet committed no crime.
When we are old and frail and withered,
we will tell our children with a shiver,
of the things that used to be,
like my favorite,
the Redwood tree.
