In The Whisperings Of The Pines Poem by Jim Scallan

The voices of the past surround us
From a forgotten, distant time.
Past generations send their songs to us
In the whisperings of the pines.

The sing of famine and hardship
While the blizzard scours the land,
Plaintive howling through the forest deep
In the frozen grip of winters hand.

Springs chorus is warm and gentle,
The land transforms ‘neath the iron ploughs,
Rain brings forth the wildflowers
Soft wind sighs through deep-green boughs.

New-born sun is greeted in the morn
By the songbirds in the stately trees,
And joined in time by the droning bees
Grass rippling like waves in the summer breeze.

Frost in the air returns again
Leaves gold, and red, and brown,
Murmuring in protest as
Winds propel them across the ground.

The cycle has become complete
The voices sing of the quieter times,
Distance conquered once again
In the whisperings of the pines.