12

And the pine trees were lovingly constructed by the birds who shed their bones for the branches and their feathers for the needles, wanting to give up the sky for the earth

Have you ever tasted a pine needle, really put it in your mouth and really bit down and let it rush over your tongue and fill you with sharpness like cheese or anger?

And the pine trees became discontent and grew to capture the sky again, to fly again and spouted out of the earth purposeful-like, but forgot about their roots, and were chained to the soil

Have you ever pricked your finger with a pine needle, point to pad, and let it stick in your skin a little bit, just the skin that looks like cellophane, and watched it for a minute, sticking out of yourself like a needle or a rusty nail

And the pine trees finally resigned themselves to plunge their roots into the ground, but they still grew high and their bones, which were once hollow now run with earth blood and their feathers, once silken are now tough

Have you ever climbed a pine tree, first peeking under its skirt and then entering its sanctuary, next gazing up up up through its center and noticing how its branches mimic constellations, how its branches wave like elegant wings in the air, how it smells like neither the sky or the earth, but both