In a treasure trove of cedar groves

there are evergreens that forever grow

seasons change, and it never shows,

because these trees they never stray,

save upward. With a bark that is etched

from the marks of the stretch,

of striving to drink from the clouds

while feet stay parched in the earth,

Upward. With needle like leaves,

that are straining to teach buildings

what it means to scrape the skies. Upwards. Forward.

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