Author David Jackson Pine needles cover the silent ground: pine trees chancel the woodland ways. We penetrate into the dark depths where only garlic and hemlock grow till we meet the blue stream cleaving the green twilight like a rhythmic sword. Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments