Ponderosa Pine
……—for Zee
When a ponderosa pine
is over one hundred—
it sheds a layer of bark.
You and I both know
the difficulty of shedding.
Let’s call this new bark,
“rusty-orange.” Rusty
implies rain. I’m talking
about that hard rain, you know
what I mean, that rain
you didn’t plan for—
the rain that changes plans?
But it hasn’t all been rain…has it?
There’s been sunshine too. And that’s the orange—
that’s the bright
and citrus. That’s the vitamins.
And when you say, “The ponderosa pine
is my favorite tree,” I understand.
Even after all that hard rain
and after all that time
and after all that shedding,
it smells sweet, makes you want
to lean into it. Ponderosa pines
can live to be five hundred years old.
Can you imagine? They must know something
about living. Even if all the needles
are burned off, they will survive.
And here we are—Brown girl, Black girl,
with our noses pressed against a tree!
Taking a deep breath in. It’s so good to be alive.
It’s so damn good to be alive. After the fires.
After all that hard rain.
By Liza Sparks
from Split This Rock
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