the talk of the trees

The pines reach into the sky with determination -- they are straight, narrow and top heavy with their boughs. Like enormous butterfly nets, they catch the breeze and in this moment they call out to me. Like the old wooden floor boards squeaking under your feet, or the wicker chair exhaling as you sit down, and the violin being tuned before the concert...W O W. I missed these sounds being on the plains. Yes, the cottonwoods sound like a rain as the winds jostles their leaves, and yes it is beautiful. But oh, the pines of my home state still my heart with their creaks and moans.

Who leaves the pine-tree, leaves his friend,
Unnerves his strength, invites his end.
~Ralph Waldo Emerson, "Woodnotes"