King of Trees

It has become Methuselah
while the sweat of black sun
drips from its wooden claws
which break
timeless howling winds

the cloud people travel
beyond its barren branches
into the ages
of silence

On the furthest edges
of God’s Holy Imagination
stands the test of time

With dark sandstone
plateaus below and
High above
on it’s heavenly throne
rules the ancient
Bristlecone Pine!


  1. nice poem–have you read Michael Cohen’s “A Garden of Bristlecones?” Michael taught at SUU, but back in the 90s moved to UNR.

  2. No I have not… I’ll have to check it out! Thanks, Sage.

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