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