Pine Tree
I'm a pine tree in a ceramic pot,
Sitting on a ledge beside a window.
The other trees outside have grown a lot,
But my maturation has been so slow.
I watch each season pass in front of me.
I watch the world wear down in bad weather.
I watch each tree become green and healthy
In front-yard forests—tall and together.
I see the leaves go brown, flake and crumble.
I see the barren branches of winter.
I see nature force them to be humble
When lightning crashes them into splinters.
I'm fine looking from here, my window sill.
In watching, I experience life still.
poem by Tim Stensloff
Added by Poetry Lover
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