To Stand in a Centuries Old Longleaf Pine Forest
Thick, scaly, russet, so tall you lean
your head back to see the crowns.
Inhale the glossy, stiff needle-tufts at branch ends
arranged in bundles of three—peppery, minty tang.
As they mature, needles turn golden and fall,
perfectly straight single trunks shed lower branches.
Late afternoon sun strobes
between them, dizzying you.
O, to ground yourself, feel with the soles
of your feet the hum of deep taproots, soil-sunk
root networks, byzantine braiding
neighbors, lavish lateral expanse,
the opposite pull of your spine to elongate, rise.
12 thoughts on "To Stand in a Centuries Old Longleaf Pine Forest"
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I really connected with the scent: peppery, minty tang. Took me right there. 🙂
I love the turn in this poem – it took my breath away. O-to ground yourself . . .
Thanks for sharing!
love your ode to the pine…wish I could write one to the honey locust
This took me there
I thoroughly felt like the “you.” Love “the hum of deep taproots.” Beautiful as always!
I love the pull downward, push upward of this poem. Though not the same trees, this takes me back to the pine forests of the Adirondacks.
Exquisite, Karen, especially love:
O, to ground yourself, feel with the soles
of your feet the hum of deep taproots, soil-sunk
root networks, byzantine braiding
neighbors, lavish lateral expanse,
the opposite pull of your spine to elongate, rise.
“O, to ground yourself, feel with the soles
of your feet the hum of deep taproots, soil-sunk”
Beautiful! Love the communion with the trees.
Such a compressed poem. The language is beautiful and musical.
Great sensory images!
Karen, I like how you’ve marshalled adjectives here (sometimes discouraged for poets) in ways that sing.
Oh, Karen, your poetry always makes me sigh–in a good way. This is no exception–the use of the word “strobes” as a verb, the “byzantine braiding,” & that entire last stanza–just some examples of the loveliness in this poem.