(I posted this poem about 4 1/2 years ago.
It seems helpful in these difficult times to re-affirm that the future might be far better than we’re expecting
)

A seed
in the ground
felt its husk
melt away.

Naked,
it feared
for its future,
loathing
the dirt.

O Redwood,
How unaware
you are:
You’ll be
the tallest
of trees
and live
three thousand years.