Ode to the Pine, With your steadfast grace, You rise above the bramble, In this sacred space, Silent guardian, In the sweet sunlight, Your needles grace the air, And all fears take flight.

In the wake of storms, Where the shadows rest, Your anchored roots, Through trials manifest, May we learn from you, Amidst life’s demands, To hold in our hearts, What our spirit commands.

• Henry David Thoreau