if we should let that pine tree grow
so close to the deck; the oak would go
for sure; its scrawny branches, hanging low,
would be a nuisance for certain.
seen it host a host of winter driven snows;
caught its dewy needles basking in the morning’s glow,
And rested ‘neath its cool pine-scented curtain.
chattered in frigid pre-spring winds that met
to rob it’s winter hoard, but all the wind could get
today was “song” – a rattling, rustling , resurrection song –
Again! Again! And yet again.