It's hard to fathom the days when angry volcanoes spread ashes and hot lava all over The world once heard dinosaurs cry, run and hide For a while, it seemed the rain would never materialize Millennia had passed before the land softened enough to vegetate The beginning of the land was neither rich nor fertile
Rain finally came clean water and billions of soft hands love and care just to nurture spring green over the hills and the flat lands It has been so splendid and so heart-warming that we didn't have the heart to ask why there isn't anything taller than grasses and bushes growing here in California
Such a fertile piece of real estate How many years did we have to keep the truth from our children that giant redwood trees forest in the size of small countries were cut to satisfy human craze for gold and other things humans deem precious Nothing in the universe could withstand the rough handling of human desire and greed California in its wild dreams never anticipated such a drought that lasts six month every year a large choking hand that robs the spring green, in its lush cradle Everywhere in the world beauty is the same short-lived
Yes, horror can be such a touchstone a litmus test, an elimination process Thus those Oak Trees are so precious They were born precocious with a shade of green that is aged, past the state of fresh a color that readies itself to suffer rather than enjoy
The low land in California is covered by an aged, weather-beaten green that refuses to fade in long and hot summers In a low profile way the trees protect without asking for any glory in return There is no celebration laughter is forever subdued The trees stay close to the land to share the moan, the groan hopelessness and determination are expressed in no flamboyant gestures
Outer beauty is never a concern Those oak trees display a grace that is internalized thus become eternal in the minds that really appreciate them in heart