pine trees

The sky is crying today,

softly, slowly dripping tears down my windows.

And why wouldn’t it?

The world is rumbling, tumbling,

churning, turning,

so much hurt,

so much hate,

so many reasons to cry.

But past the teardrops on my window screen,

I can see two squirrels

skittering up the trunk of a pine tree,

its branches stretching high

brushing away the tears in the crying sky.

The two squirrels have made a runway

through the deep green maze of pines.

They scamper in stops and starts up and down.

On the way up, they carry bundles of fresh

spring leaves they’ve nibbled off the bushes below.

They’re building a nest near the tip-top

in a thicket of pine needles.

It’s almost invisible, a dark bulk

nestled between branches,

swaying in the breeze.

I assume squirrels do this every spring—

build their penthouse nests—

but this is the first time I’ve seen them

carrying greenery,

refurbishing their nursery.

I suppose they know what they’re doing,

trusting swaying pines

not to toss them out but to rock them,

not to crash but cradle them.

So I’m trusting those little squirrels

and the pine trees too.

I’m trusting the return of spring,

the bloom of dogwood,

the robin hopping along the porch rail.

Trees sway,

skies cry,

the world churns,

but we will gather fresh bundles of hope,

carry them along the mazes of our world,

jump the chasms,

bridge the gaps,

and build at the very top,

stretching high into the crying sky

to brush away the tears.

– kh –

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

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“Go to the pine if you want to learn about the pine.”

– Matsuo Basho –

Five pine trees stand in a line across my back fence. I used to think of them as the skinny kids on the block, but they’re not kids. They were here before I was. So I’m now calling them the five elders. They are thin and as tall as a four-story house. Two of them lean east; the others grow straight up. I think they’re Eastern White Pines or something related. They produce long, scaly cones, and their reddish-brown, rough, furrowed bark holds a sticky resin with that distinct, clean, crisp pine smell. Their thin, feathery needles grow in fan-like groups that wave to me when a breeze blows through. And when the breeze turns into a stiff wind, these five elders are good at slow-dancing.

Go to the pine to learn about the pine. Go to whatever or whoever creates peace to learn about peace. Go to whoever shows kindness to learn about kindness.

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week: