A pine cone stood proudly on my desk

Admired at day time and held at dusk

And sworn to God to never gather dust

.

A tree with odorless spiky leaf blades

And savorless stone-like fruit parades

A stream of ugliness that cascades

.

Humans we are, we may be, we are free

But it isn't the same thing that we all see

In this unfair world, it's toilsome to just be

.

I see an earthy design, a wooden masterpiece

Mangled with clouds, a sight that brings peace

When all they can find is pure dirt and grease

.

For pine cones were never subfusc and mundane

They smell of soil so heavenly we think it's ethane

They taste of honey too holy for us it becomes plain

.

That's how special things were always treated

So if one day, with a pine cone you were greeted

Ensure that person next to you is forever seated