Ode to Cedar

You grow on moss-covered pedestals
Cinnamon fern and royal fern your companions
What mystery do you hold?

Bullfrogs and swamp sparrows your choir
Sunlight your clock
What mystery do you hold?

Decades you have inhabited our coastal landscape
Your cinnamon bark
Your skirt of needles bowing toward the pond
Your sacred fragrance etched in my memory

What mystery do you hold?