Prayer to a Spruce Forest

teach me how

the first branches

underneath

die in the shade

to make way

for the flush

of this year's

growth cresting

ever upward

to the sun

how your roots

stretch full across

and slow

hurried steps

through the forest

how the soft wood

of the understory

falls underfoot

with lichens

already doing

their quiet work

remind me

how torrents

of rain and

fierce ocean

winds toss and

rearrange

your trees

and how

so soon

after each

great storm

no one

remembers

the contours of

your last canopy

whisper again

with your

soft fragrance

and rustling boughs

how you're born

from the cone

and through

the bounty

of the world and

the many gifts

growing

side by side

you remain

embedded

in your singular

faith in what

you're here

to be