Ode to a Pine Tree

Sway, branches flutter in the wind.
The squirrels hide in their nest.

Tall. Proud. A sentinel to the years.
The cold of winter bites its bark,
The wary traveler takes shelter in the dark,
In the hallow under its roots.

Tired, old, holes in his boots,
The wary traveler takes shelter in its roots.

The tall pine, a beacon in the night,
Fire at its base,
The wary traveler fiddles with his lace.
Cones open in the heat,
The wary traveler stretches his feet,
Eating the meager offering.

He blesses the pine, a prayer in the dark,
And sleeps, awaiting the lark.

Author's Note

This is my first attempt at writting poetry in many years. Please be frank in an assessment.

Much of my poetry has always focused on nature. I must thank much of this to my love of Robert Frost

Reviews

[MuSe Ampoule]

Do I have to be frank? cant I be sally or jane? J/K Good job!
"Tall. Proud. A sentinel to the years" great feel!

Time to dust off that writing desk of yours and get back to work!