Under The Sheltering Pines

Carpeting brown beneath canopy green,
Layer on layer so spongy and plush
That the sole of my shoe makes no sound
As I stroll through the stand,
So endearing, I dare not to rush.
Afraid I may miss the sweet laughter of robins
Proclaiming their conquest
Pulled fresh from the earth.
I seek out their nesting place every springtime,
Amazed and bewitched at nature's rebirth.

But the pine is a constant.
It always endures.
With roots running deeper than diamond mines.
So blissful to saunter,
Admiring the view,
In the shade of the sheltering pines.

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