The tall aging pine trees
Are talking to each other.
They huddle,
Debating the weeds and mesquite,
Competing for sun,
Taking pride in crowding out the small starters far below.
They ask if their brothers have felt the chill,
If their bark has been colder than usual,
If they think it's true that the clouds seem somehow darker than yesterday.
They brag about keeping their cones longer,
Reaching higher
Finding more moisture
Fending off woodpeckers.
They inspect each other for dangerous beetles, ants and untamed sap flow,
Commiserating their helplessness against them.
The wisest of the trees tell stories of human hands and animal tails,
Predicting that one day all trees will have such helpful appendages,
But for now
Their community must wait
And find satisfaction and art in singing with the wind.
© Poem Fix http://www.poemfix.com 2012
Image: Poem Fix
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