When white-caps broke the Winter shore
The dirt had loved this tree no more
Birds who lost their taste for fish
Peck the wood bugs as succulent dish

"I hold myself above the sand
once overseer
baron of this untouched land"

Wind ran through his friends stood frame
Whom host less life, who's bark more tame
Lost count of rings decades ago, busy
Holding small ones from the snow


"Only once did man touch this land
In this, in us, they came to understand
We're small ones, we're trees
We're all the sand."

Nothing is always as life, not always in it's time
Nothing is always as death, as I gave the forest mine