SIGNS OF PINES AND SPIRITS

There is a smell of pine
A smell that brings memories
Bearing down upon the present day
Tangy, pungent, clean
The smell of freshness
Carried on cool winds left behind by thunderstorms
Warm in the summer sun
Crisp with winter ice

Sticky bark and prickly pine needles

I have stood many times in the shelter of those pine trees
Lain down on the ground beneath them
Felt the tiny pricks of the needles on bare arms and legs

I waited for signs of the coming of the spirits into the places of shelter
Looked through the patterns of the branches for the sun

Now I hear the special sound of pine trees
On mountain cliffs and peaks
On golf courses
Along trails near my new home in the city

I smell the scent

I wait for signs of the coming of the spirits into the places where I live