God, or Pine NeedlesMature

God, or Pine Needles

Flutter, brown, green, twirl delicately;
Blades whose sharpness is masked by naturality--
and more alive than me.

You care enough to intertwine,
attempt to block my fallenness, my deadness
with your unending green innocence.

What may have once been
spears are now seen as dainty needles,
too soft to pierce flesh.

The End

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