The rustle of pine needles
Reminds me of my past sins;
The gurgle of boiling water
Tells what I've left unclosed.
P.S.
Hence, I'm going to climb down
This shady but knotted pine tree
To brew another pot of strong tea
To keep talking over my sinful past
With the needles upon the pine crown--
The branch of the Celestial office of fairness.
Regis