A century-old sentry, I’ve stood vigilantat the river’s edge.A surveyor of nature’s glory:the glisten of crisp iceand snowmelt that poolsat my roots,the flicker of the moon’swarm glow scamperingacross my branches,smoother than the boldstare of summer’s sunrays,or the wind that stirs needles and flowers culled from my shadows by deer and hare, or the eddies thatContinue reading “Black spruce sentry”
