Lonesome Pines
By marandina
- 2499 reads
For #NationalTreeWeek
Lonesome Pines
Snow drifts across a vertiginous Sierra Nevada,
a land of ice-capped mountains and blue lakes,
where vast expanses of panoramic wilderness,
shelter verdant tracts of endless, evergreen forest.
Stoic of elders, Methuselah, on a throne of soil
adorned by pine cones as nature’s ornaments
and needles of green for a cold winter’s coat,
ageless sentry of countless, wintertides past.
Brown bark flaking, a myriad of insects,
industrious bees thriving in a resinous domain,
hawks, jays and owls alive amongst branches,
red squirrels and bats call pines their home.
And as my fleeting years come to a close,
whorls of time watch saplings, timber lumber on,
my bleached bones now turned to dust,
a cycle of life outlived by the majesty of copse.
*Pines typically live for up to 1,000 years.The longest-lived is the Great Basin bristlecone pine, Pinus Longaeva. One individual of this species - Methuselah - is one of the oldest living organisms at around 4,800 years old. This tree can be found in the White Mountains of California.
Image free to use via WikiCommons at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sierra_Nevada#/media/File:DanaFork.JPG
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Comments
Hi Paul,
Hi Paul,
I'm so glad you've written a poem for national tree week. What a wonderful way to describe the pines beauty and majesty as in that second stanza. You took my breath away with all the different creatures that depend on this amazing living to such a ripe old age pine.
A great tribute that I very much enjoyed reading. Thank you so much for sharing.
Jenny.
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It's amazing to think how
It's amazing to think how much these wonderful trees have seen, and how insignificant our own puny lifespans seem in comparison. I enjoyed this very much.
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Great stuff, pines are pretty
Great stuff, pines are pretty high up my favourites list. :)
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You draw the picture of the
You draw the picture of the busy insects, birds, squirrels, bats habiting these sometimes seemingly so silent woods in a lovely, lively way.
Rhiannon
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I often here, I thought it
I often here, I thought it was a dwarf pine. Dwarves don't grow thee-feet a year. There is, of course, Laurel and Hardy's take on it. But your poem somehow reminded me of Humphtry Bogart and The Treasure of the Sierra Madrid (not sure if that's the right title) but I'm sure you know what I mean. A send sof stillness.
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Agree with everyone else,
Agree with everyone else, this :
"Brown bark flaking, a myriad of insects,
industrious bees thriving in a resinous domain,
hawks, jays and owls alive amongst branches,
red squirrels and bats call pines their home."
is wonderful, the line about bees almost buzzes it is so intense, with all the "s" sounds, and "v"
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This is a great poem Paul.
This is a great poem Paul.
I love the fact that you have acknowledged that these majestic creatures survive (or should survive) on the planet for a far greater expanse of time than we do ourselves. Perhaps they have more right to be here than we do. We should remember this when we are cutting them down.
I always try to imagine an Industrial Brummie accent when I read what you have written, but it didn't quite work on this occasion.
Turlough
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Hi Paul
Hi Paul
Beautiful dewcriptions of hte teres. When my son was in Calaifornia, he took some cuttings of very old pine trees, to bring back to England. The dog ate several of the tiny trees but there is still one of them surviving and about 35 ft tall, after 25 years.
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