it was the rising
that was hardest that day

so i just laid there
beneath the sighing pines,

letting flakes weep & blend
wet on my skin

the chimney smoke drifting
with the ashes I’d come
to roll in

& again, i was lichen
on longing’s misted glow
:
  .
& somehow
tears
fell more silent
than snow

By: Katy Claire Funke

featured image by aditya vyas via unsplash

Published by Katy Claire

Singer, creative, plant and ocean lover sharing my exploration of the world through music, writing and photography.

6 thoughts on “the pine”

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