The Whispers Of The Pines

As the cool breeze
Rustles through the branches
Of the towering pines,
Their foliage waves
Like a gentle hand
Waving at the passing winds.
But it's not only
The rustling of leaves
That can be heard in the forest.
The pines whisper
Something,
Something that no voice can regale,
Something that only those
Who listen
With a patient ear may understand.

The murmur of the pines is not only a sound,
It's a language of the forest.
They whisper tales
Of the creatures
That pass by,
The secrets hidden in the ground,
And the wisdom of the woodland.
This ancient tongue
Speaks of a time
When the forest was young,
A time when the world was untamed,
And the spirits roamed freely.

But the whispers of the pines
Do not only carry tales of the past.
They also hold insight
Into the present and future.
The piney murmurs
Tell of the vines
That will grow up
To cover the trees in the years to come,
The storms that will rage,
And the creatures that will seek refuge
In their branches.
He who is patient enough
To listen to these whispers
Will know the ways of the forest,
The movement of the seasons,
And the cycles of life itself.

The pines are like a deep well,
A source of knowledge
For those who dare to drink
From its waters.
And the one who drinks from the deep well
Will know the secrets
That lie within its depths.
They will understand
The ways of nature
And the universal language
Of the earth.

Listen closely
To the whispers of the pines,
And you will hear
The language of the forest,
The ancient tongue of mother nature.
The sound of the pines
Holds a wealth of wisdom,
Waiting to be discovered
By those
Who are willing
To take the time to listen.