[Old Sarge]

Journey to the tamaracks
and hear the silence all around!
Walk beneath the Douglas Fir
and strain to hear the quiet sound.

Hissing all around, above you,
if the northern wind should blow,
news and tidings passing by you
in a tongue only they know.

Sighs and groanings, branches swaying
back and forth, in rising breezes,
longing to know what they're saying
what might anger, or what pleases.

Spruce and cedar, fir and pine,
tamarack and evergreen,
no place I know, more fair and fine
than the forests have ever been!

[Soaring Feather]

The Aspen, Beechwood, Maple, too, long ago
shed their leaves
dormant now shivering cold
bared, naked now in cold winter's winds
howling down upon their bones
from mountain's unmerciful blasts
icy cold, barren and bleak.

Memories of Summer Wine
sweet and fine,
linger in the air
warm mountain breezes
carefree hearts,
writing the book of memory in the sun.

While in the Tamarack cool, calm prevails.
Bunny rabbits with fluffy white tails, romp the dale
Black Eyed Susans cover the fields
Queen Anne's Lace abounds around
bee trees emitting a sweet smelling aroma
Princess Pine spreading her gown
while the Wood Cock struts the ground.

Memories etched deep in stone
the wind and trees never are alone.