Pine needles thread rays of sun

Pine needles thread rays of sun,

as the day is nearly finished and done.

You have won and you have the final say,

despite doubts of dreary, dappled gray.

You blow the winds of praise through the masts of my lungs,

your delight climbs every rung of my spirit.

All nature, grand and small, joins me with distinctive, artful worship and motion.

Diffusers of scented melodies and harmonies swell,

the tattered parts of stories tell.

Dancing to the sway of mossy tears and wrinkly old oak limbs,

it’s grounding to sense the resounding of the hearts every rhyming whim.