the pines

a poem

a waltz to the falling sky in evergreen
to the rising of the forest floor
the earth drowned in beads of opal
from trees dripping in an encore

a gentle wind caught on fallen leaves
a scent of peated moss emerging
the flare of solace through trees, alluring
a halted tempest from the clouds of fury

the Lyrebird whistles to the tune in memory
a sea of tinsel and streamers lay testimony
"How sublime, brilliant! An admirable performance!"
a collective sigh from the mist at morning