Day 11: Evergreen

Amidst a row of green, a tree has died.
That evergreen, long faded to that rust
That evergreens eternally elide
Now, at a touch, unravels into dust
That falls like ruddy raindrops, and no more
Is evergreen.  If Rose be a color,
Is the flower red once it has died? For
Evergreen, forever?  Or another
Sobriquet, like evergreen, the essence
Of the tree it had become?  There among
The junipers, it marks the lively fence,
An evergreen stigmata, bled and hung
And heeded not, and not deserving death,
Yet marked for death; forever marked for death.