Amidst the Pines

I have always loved

to cloud gaze and

sit beneath the tall

lanky southern pines,

listening to its whispers

as they gracefully swayed

in the wind.

The ten tall trees

scattered in the yard

were sufficiently apart

to allow the morning

and mid-afternoon sun

to reach the grass

growing around the base

but close enough together

to provide a canopy of shade

from the noonday sun.

Often with my back to the bark,

sipping on a glass of iced tea,

I stayed within the shadows of the pines

observing massive cumulus cloud-ships

making their way across

the vast blue ocean of air,

heading for some port of call

in need of its wet cargo.

Far below those cloudy hulls

that gathered no barnacles,

a community of pines,

though tethered by its very nature,

still moved about

reaching for the sky or

yielding to the will of the wind.

It seemed as if the whole universe

was set in motion above.

And in the wake of such a fleet

a band of timber

was stirring far below,

whispering softly to me

amidst the pines.