Swaying Grace

Soft pine of swaying grace,
you are a lovely silent companion.

Your forever green needles
glisten in the sun, dancing
at the slightest breeze, reaching
to tickle my hand as I pen these words.

In truth, there is little silence
in your world at the base of the cascade.
Eyes closed, ears attune to a melody,
gently bowed by water over rock,
spilling arcing glissandos into an awaiting pool;
warbling, chirping, whistling, staccato notes
of birdsong lilting from nearby trees;
the wind, exhaling over ridge tops;
a constant presence in this place of pause.

Soft pine of swaying grace,
the wind moves you in supple surrender,
the sun and water nourish you
in ways of wonder.

In truth, there is no silence
in your world at the base of the cascade.
Your gentle nudging entreats me,
hear...smell...see...receive.

I bow to your wisdom...
and it is good.