Copyright 2000, Sara Zwern
Bristlecone Pine
 
Bristlecone Pine
You tell an ancient story.
 
Time is your teacher,
This ivory summit
Your home.
 
How many winter
Tears have etched
Your deeply set furrows?
 
How many summer
Tempests have buffed
Your shining countenance?
 
How deep
Are your roots
Oh treasured tree?
 
Perhaps they touch
The molten core.
Perhaps they burn in
Forever.