A view from my window (August 2015)
18
Write about a pine tree – any pine tree, a real one
which grows in your yard or in the woods you go for a walk, or a pine tree you
saw on your vacation, or a pine tree painted by an artist. What it looks like,
smells like, how does it feel to touch?
City of Pines
I
was born in Siberia,
In the city of pines.
They
would rock me gently,
Singing
their ballads.
Pines thick sweetness
Was
spilled in the air,
The
needles aroma
Nearly
unbearable.
Now
far from Siberia,
From
the city of pines,
Yet
They surround me stubbornly,
They surround me stubbornly,
They protect me motherly,
I too find Pines comforting and homey. I will tackle a poem eventually.
ReplyDeleteNatasha ... one of the most surprising comments you made when we first moved to the Pacific Northwest was how it reminded you of home, especially the trees. I'd had this American propaganda image of Siberia as a slab of unbroken ice and snow and the shared photos of your home hadn't quite succeeded in wiping those notions from my mind. But I've heard you say so many times now how places we've traveled to remind you of home and I love that about our new home, that it reminds you of a place I have come to consider the home of the best part of me ... you. ;)
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