The Whispering Pines

The whispering pines in twilight sway, Their secrets softly shared; With every rustle, night and day, A touch of grace declared.

The branches arch, a timeless dance, That beckons hearts to know; In nature’s pulse, we catch a glance Of wonder in the flow.

The moonlight drips like silver tears, Upon the forest floor; As shadows weave through night’s warm spheres, A tapestry of lore.

In every rustling breeze, I hear The echo of the past; A story told in night’s own sphere, As nature’s heart beats fast.

So let the pines surround my soul, In whispers soft and true; For here, I feel the gentle whole, In everything I do.

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• M H McGlashan