Pines

Walk through the pines, down the mountain, follow the signs
Shadow birds circle slow, high above the power lines

Smoke on the breeze, I've been talking to the trees
And I sing to the pines like the wind through the leaves

Snow in the valley in flashes of feathered light
Cold stars shining, like diamonds in the night
Ghostly footsteps buried out of sight
Frozen on the hillside, silver and white

Wild river flows, no idea where it goes
And it sings to the pines in a language no one knows