My Favorite Pine
You grew out of the rock.
Breaking it apart slowly,
as you made space for your own life.
Sometimes you broke a huge chunk off
as you made your way,
in search of nourishment.
How did you ever feed yourself?
Literally it must’ve been
some sort of Stone Soup.
Sap drips like candle wax.
A thick root burrows
as deep as you are tall, maybe deeper.
Did it stunt your growth?
Or would you never have been so majestic,
had you not grown
out of the side of a cliff?
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Comments about this poem (My Favorite Pine by Nichole Humes )
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