Shelter my eyes, with lighted skin,
Touch me with printed flame, rapt
In songs of joy, for I am unarmed,
Lift me to the spiral keeps of soul,
Spires thrusting in hearts firmament,
Set free in curled locks of your hair,
Let us be new as babes are nestled,
Long in the pines of the bristlecones,
Ageless and evergreen in cloudy bed,
Close the lids of night in sensate blue,
In eyes piercing painted skies of dark,
See my shroud cast out with the dawn.
Bristlecone pines are known for attaining great ages. Some bristlecone pine individuals are more than 5,000 years old and are the oldest known individuals of any species. Bristlecone pine grow in scattered subalpine groves at high altitude in arid regions of the Western United States.