Mimicked mosaics, seem stitched at the seams
Plaids of crimson, gold, and tangerine dreams
No mystical myth, of tapestries tall
We're graced by their boughs, the legends of Fall
Poets enamored, with pens on the prod
Kneel to this splendored, coniferous god
Till marmalade skies, withered by weather
Watch leaves tumble dry, light as a feather
With morning brew, I strolled outside
To hear the jabber of a squirrel up high
Made my rounds to visit each tree
To my delight I did see
Newborn buds did plenty peek
From deciduous and coniferous all unique
Mature strong boughs cradled nests
Wide-mouth chicks at mother's behest
A troop of ants marched in line
carrying rations in rhythm time
I made my way toward the woods
On the edge, mouth open I stood
To my surprise my hands did fold
My heart sang with the sight to behold
A sea of white flowers, I dare not step
Trillium Grandiflorum, tears of joy I wept
It made my day and now each year
I make my rounds with awe and cheer
Happy Mother's Day to thee
A living bouquet from Creator to ye
The cascading contours of the verdant mountain slope
hold me, an upstanding cone of coniferous jade spruce
with waxy leaves that I turn into needles on the boughs.
When young I stand erect in the shade of the taller trees,
but soon I go up fast to outgrow them under the sun.
Cinnabar glaze I get from the crimson gleam of twilight,
my senses shiver in the winter chill freezing the needles.
The sparkle of joy shines on me in the cheerful night,
when I go for the festival of merriment to a happy home
as a Christmas tree decorated with the sapphire stars.
I am very tall and tower over others in the forest
My trunk is a tough, thick bark and my protective shield
My feet are my roots, and they work hard to keep me upright
I have many arms of branches and with many needles of fingers
I am fragrant and my woodsy citrusy scent wafts in the wind
Birds love to visit me and often make nests at my treetop
I am coniferous and flower pinecones to seed the forest
Some of my friends are cut down and then decorated in homes
Sometimes the forest becomes barren as we become timber
I can live hundreds of years until a severe windstorm may take me
Before I ruin the view, I see…I see
as a child - the colors meld
in the sky, in the lake, at tree level.
Before I ruin the view, I chew on it,
revel in it, see God in it. I see…
Before I ruin the view, alone with myself,
alone with sights and sounds; infinity.
Before I ruin the view, by adding people,
I grip each petal, each blade, each
coniferous and fanned leaf, each bird,
each squirrel, each…each….
Before I ruin the view…before we ruined
Eden by setting our sights on low-
hanging fruit, perhaps red and delicious,
sweet, juicy like gossip and AI…don’t look -
it’s a sham. there’s a snake under the rock.
Before you and I, ruin anything, everything,
let us be awestruck, illuminated, engulfed
in the allowance of so many good things.
Not everyone sees. Some fish for pictorials.
Forests of Green Coniferous Trees
Forests of evergreen conifers
(Fir, spruce, cedar, pine, and hemlock trees)
Keep their colour throughout the seasons
And don’t shed foliage in autumn.
Rooted in soil and basking in sunlight,
They grow on hillsides and in valleys,
Encircling rock outcrops, swamps, and leas,
And near rivers and lakes, and on islands.
These hearty trees endure nature’s throes
Of cold, harsh, winters to warm spring thaws,
Thriving in summer and fall to help provide
A habitat for the forest dwellers.
Conifer pollen and seed cones pollinate,
And fertilized seeds disperse on windy days
—Or get stashed away by squirrels and birds—
And grow into stately coniferous trees.
Coniferous greenery holds up the hill and my eyes.
Snakes wind around the roots, and my boots, if I’m not careful.
Replaced junipers with a weeping willow and stone wall.
Big tall evergreen trees are monoecious
But others are only dioecious
Two sexes are mono
While only one dio
Both prickly to handle coniferous
Embracing the countryside
Made some ecstatic and glee
But one feature in particular
Was that old coniferous tree
‘Conifer,’ a Latin word
Means one that bears a cone
But did Nero study the outdoors
When he was in charge of Rome?
One Emperor’s word against another
The other, Mother Nature
A lovely scene along the hills
Was better than portraiture
The gentle breeze juxtaposed against
The needle pinaceae
But with their sheer beauty alone
Would make one want to stay
Written: December 28, 2023
______________________________________
flounder in fictional field
—squeals and squeaks
Whimpers and growls
Sylphic swaying,
of flames spewing,
inwardly throbbing
of my nostril
lobotomized cosmic orbs.
scent of cinnamon
and coral on a rosary
interlaced of aurulent rimes.
Shrouded your burgundy &
coniferous ravines
loop of vitality
& unbearable redemption
in spanning eons,
ineffable wonder cradled
by melodic hums and buzzes
of lazy heat
and whistles of pitches
of endless hymns
echoes of choral chants
sung by soloists.
black ravens croaking,
like peals of doom
dewy allelomorphs
with waft-aloft wings
angels of ethereal whisper
of thunder,
that rang deafeningly
through the crevices,
of anodal motion
scurrilous loci
modeled as diploid.
Canadian Autumn
Forests of old and new growth in constant turmoil
Are held upright by root systems filtering the soil.
Trees and saplings stretch upward in the wilderness
To absorb the sun’s rays for photosynthesis.
Stands of coniferous and deciduous trees
(Bearing green needles, and red, yellow, and orange leaves)
Bent by capricious winds, resiliently snap back straight,
And march down slopes to the edges of northern lakes.
Claiming the ground on which to propagate and grow
While roiling, whitecaps splash against the rock-stacked shores.
Where driftwood beach and animals forage for food,
Under the canopy of trees spreading out their boughs.
As temperatures drop, snowflakes fall and unite
To blanket the forests while the lakes start forming ice.
The cascading contours of the verdant mountain slope
hold me, an upstanding cone of jade coniferous pine,
gilded in gold soaked from the swathe of snow,
turned to mirror flakes by the sun of dawn.
Cinnabar glaze I get from crimson cloud passing
through the twilight gleam to the fiery horizon’s fold.
As the polar wind lancet abrades the frozen topography,
my senses shiver in the winter chill on the tips of needles.
The shroud of silence falls with the drizzle of still night,
the cerulean stardust shines on my silken visage,
shimmering in my dream to slice the misty air,
and soar in the satin sky to touch the stars.
The reverie comes true some other time,
when in festival of joy to a far-off place I go
as the Christmas tree crowned by sapphire stars.
My desire to be with stars is fulfilled in Christmas time
If you were a color you would be dark green.
Not a musty or dusty dark green,
But a comforting rich dark green.
The type of green that smells like the calm before a much needed storm.
The type of green that people say to get your bed sheets in because it helps you sleep better.
The type of green that reminds you of the north west coast.
The green of jade stones.
The green of coniferous trees.
I love the color green,
Because it reminds me of you.
I was once told a story, of the wee folk of Bensham Bog; they live in carved mushroom houses that are shaped like bullfrogs and they ensure the survival of creatures there. They travel in petrified skins of bananas and are rarely ever seen yet, they mix all of the peat moss and propagate trees. Coniferous trees like pine and spruce, larch and fir; trees that produce oxygen; negative ions for the air. Be thankful, these fey exist; if you see one at night; you’ll know because, they glow with blue light.
in the bog
trees thriving-
faeries labor
Wetlands help to keep a balance within our environment; their preservation is vital, this everyone should know. They provide iron deposits, lovely, translucent obsidian stone from which, early man, made himself tools. Flora, like water lily’s grow in bogs and thriving there, leatherback turtles, an endangered species.
a leatherback turtle swims-
crickets chirping
Aromatic coniferous forest housing fine tree soldiers
Gorgeous scents and fragrances of pines and firs are calling
Balsam fir, Colorado spruce, Northern white pine
Each lovely in their own unique ways
Spiral needles on their shoots, remind me of Christmas
Their massive arms make way for baby pinecones
These giants inspire hope and Christmas confidence
Reverence for God’s masterpieces as I decide on one.
Douglas fir and Pacific Silver fir are both fine soldiers
Standing tall, loving their lives, enjoying their daily views
I would feel guilty bringing one home if I had cut them down
But they are already cut, so I choose my tree with delight.
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