The wind in trees sings songs to me
As branches, leaves
and needles sway
To melodies set in my memory.
Soft wind in pines are love
Of balmy nights, quiet walks,
Kisses and caresses
Along dirt roads and remote places.
Shadowed faces and
patches of moonlight
Which shifted as branches swayed
Helped set the mood
For the songs the trees played.
When the wind blows in
short, shifting gusts,
It lets the trees sing in jazz.
They sing of younger, playful
Spent with friends and families
Walking and camping as
Campfires lit our stories
To the background song of the
Ghosts, cowboys and knights marched
To the sound they made.
The troubled moan in heavy wind,
When limbs are tortured
By a merciless wind,
Sing of a soul's loneliness and loss
Death dances through this song.
While I listen to the song,
I hear the names of those who
To join his dance on stormy nights
Of creaks and cracks
and little light.
I will not, can not, avoid the trees.
I seek them always,
waiting to see
What song tonight they play for me.