Scots Pine
there is a whisper in the air
silence-pure
a mountain breeze caresses
attentive leaf-bound boughs
swaying regally
picking a cone from the ground
you wonder aloud if they have always been there
these trees
these cones
“if you take one home
does it open and close with time?”
obscurely
I am reminded of your heart
and love’s inconstancy
and know I cannot answer
Ian Gouge - Writer & Publisher 