Jul 2012
© 2011 (Jim Sularz)
Deep in a Black Forest,
lost along a mystic stream.
Where the winds still whisper,
a thousand untold dreams.
Enchanted shadows,
kicking frosted leaves.
Sleep at night’s darkness,
wake upon a moonlit breeze.
Castled ruins in disbelief,
sap blistered lips unseen.
Singing Austrian pines in chorus,
beneath an idyllic scene.
Dancing high betwixt the hills,
hide an’ seek, and make-believe.
Pine cones popping tear-dropped treasures,
wave a kiss goodbye, “Auf Wiedersehen!”
Deep in a Black Forest,
lost along a mystic stream.
Where the winds still whisper,
a thousand untold dreams.
Enchanted shadows,
kicking frosted leaves.
Sleep at night’s darkness,
wake upon a moonlit breeze.
Castled ruins in disbelief,
sap blistered lips unseen.
Singing Austrian pines in chorus,
beneath an idyllic scene.
Dancing high betwixt the hills,
hide an’ seek, and make-believe.
Pine cones popping tear-dropped treasures,
wave a kiss goodbye, “Auf Wiedersehen!”
I wrote this poem one afternnoon after I experienced "popping" pine cones in my backyard. For the longest time, I could not find the source of a very faint but still distinct popping sound. It turned out to be coming from one of my large Austrian pine trees. When the pine cones are mature and dry, they pop open to eject their seed which are tear-dropped in shape and float gently to the ground. Wonderful! Jim Sularz
