Tall Pines

Tall Pines
Where do you reach, tall pines?
Pines with hands lifted to azure heavens.
Your branches are sharp like tines,
You sway lazily in the wind, as drunk with wine.

Whom do you seek, tall pines, with heads upturned?
Do you hope to glimpse Almighty God,
His visage upon your trunk to be burned,
Tall pines, standing straight as a rod?

Tall pines, how long will you there stand,
As sentinels tall, straight and mighty?
Until the winter cold turns your limbs to tan?
Until you are so weak, the wind may topple you lighty?

Tall pines, scrubbing the sky, swaying in the wind,
Sighing in the breeze:
Reach God for me and ask Him his ear to bend,
To bless, caress and to refresh us all with His peace, if He please.