Pine Trees

The pine trees grow straight and tall, Their branches a glimpse of heaven, Cove their boughs in splendor, As they breathe the still evening air. By night they stand sentinels, Guardians of solemn dreams, And by day they cast shadows, Whispering secrets to the grass below.

In the rustle of their needles Lies a world of echoes, The past, the now, A hidden harmony in the wild. These trees, like sages, Breathe wisdom into the fields, Their steady pulses, Roots and trunks entwined with the earth’s heart.

• D H Lawrence