Friday, April 6, 2012

identifying a tree

that one there has short dark green needles
its branches tower above me, yet I can scratch the itch
on my right wrist at eye level,
its bark dark and striated, cracks shimmering ghostly within
like the last remnants of snow frozen into rocky veins
of which I know nothing, neither genre or species,
geographical spread, diseases or joys like the one
of reaching across space to touch.

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