When we moved here
almost 20 years ago,
I told Fred I wanted a
long needled pine.
We never really got around to getting one.
Then I got to a point where the
place seemed different,
my dreams,
well,
different, I guess.
On my walk up to the woods,
I found this fine young pine tree,
I ran my finger over the soft
long needles.
It was a gift,
near the large stones,
moved by glaciers
to this hill,
like me.
