The Eastern White Pine’s carpet’s orange-brown
The Northeast’s largest conifer is vast
Each year new branches grow atop its crown
Its tall straight trunk was used as a ship’s mast
The Bristlecone Pine is the oldest tree
A few have been alive five thousand years
It lives in Western arid desert scree
It yearns to die but knows not how, it fears
I love encountering on a long hike
A stand of pines in higher altitudes
The sticky sap, the dark green hues I like
The fragrant smell the shady copse exudes
They give us beauty, oxygen and wood
All that the evergreens provide is good