Although I walk by the line of pine trees daily,

it required intentionality

to notice them.

Clearing my mind of to do lists,

worries, plans,

I set out to drink in

spring’s early offerings.

The nine towering pines

stand in a straight row.

I imagine the trees began life

as a border between homes,

short saplings offering a measure

of privacy in the outdoors.

Yet, in the half century since planting,

the stately pine trees

have soared above the houses,

standing twice as tall as the nearest rooftop.

Large, nut brown pine cones

nestle in soft grass

below the boughs.

Feathery green needles

shift in the morning breeze.

The leathery, mottled bark

of each tree somehow glows

in early morning light.

The pine trees are magnificent.

As for humans,

they care little for our existence,

offering shade and beauty as an afterthought.