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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