Old Friend
The spruce in my backyard holds up the world.
It keeps the chickadees that live among its branches
safe from harm; it covers crows and starlings from the rain;
it provides the Stellar jays and hummingbirds a close-by perch
for the water feature when it’s free for bathing.
The spruce in my backyard supports new life.
Freshly broken eggs fall to the ground as spring robins leave
the family’s nest to graze for worms and ants and grubs
within the lawns nearby. A symphony at 5am each day
rewards the early risers, myself among them.
The spruce in my backyard grows tired quickly at its age.
The stages of its life revealed as branches, cones, and needles
on the ground around its base; it dances in a breeze,
runs swiftly in the wind, and shouts at the top of its’ lung when
winter gusts return to cover it for the year-end celebration.
© May 2019
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