Trees of complacence

In front of my bedroom window

Pine trees brush against the horizon

Triangle shades in a waving distance

They stand tall in front of existence.

They have not asked to be alive

Nor do they question their own demise.

For decades and centuries they have persisted

Competing with winds of changing skies

Delighted when the sun nudges them lightly

Or when the moon fondles them nightly.

They bow their head to a raging sky

And stoically see those years roll by.

I often gaze out my bedroom window

Throwing life’s complaints at them.

But even that does not uproot them

They simply nod and carry on.