Updated: Jun 11
By Melanie Faith Haggard-Strange
Three conifers stood in a grove.
Each with height of stoic grace.
Branches shimmering in breezes whispering vespers for the passing day.
Stalwart needles boldly speak to innumerable strength.
A lattice fortified in blasting winds, bitter cold, and piercing heat.
Bow in surrender to the balm of gentle breezes, sunlight’s warm caresses, and spring’s gentle rains.
Question not, release to cycles of growth.
Bending as one, standing alone, refusing to abandon the whole professes love’s purpose for all.