Methuselah Poem by Ima Ryma

Methuselah



'Methuselah' the humans say
My name as a Bristlecone pine.
Forty plus centuries today,
I come from a long living line,
Living in California high,
Rooted in the harsh mountainside,
Ten thousand feet into the sky,
A rugged look personified.
I don't grow too tall or too fast,
About an inch a century.
If I could talk, I'd tell a past
Of trees helping humanity.

The secret of this tree's long life -
Stay far away from human strife.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success