Questions for the Porcupine

Porcupine, do the sapless twigs of winter taste any different on the tree you’ve just girdled, this waste of a pine? Its whited branches light the grove like candles, like candelsticks. But you with your poor eyesight must favor the dark: hollows & cavities, the undersides of things, unchewed bark. This pine was unwise to arm itself with such soft & succulent spines. It did nothing but hiss like a gnawed-on road-salted tire. Slow destroyer, do you ever pass those bleached roads in the air & long for salt?