Evergreens
As I've aged, my vision of existence has diminished
From that of a stately hundred-foot-high Wisconsin white pine
Standing absolutely straight, against nature's tempests,
On some ultimate reach of shoreline,
Where an isolated beach meets a wave-abraded lake,
To that of a tiny, cascading Japanese black-pine bonsai tree
Pruned by my mind's desire for order, harmony, peace,
Growing in a pot so small, I can balance it on the tip of a finger
And, lifting it heavenward,
See sunrays sequined with eternity's green needles.
09/08/10
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