the place in the pines

on a solitary ramble through the woods
i met a path i had not seen before
so, intrigued, i started down
its narrow track, which twisted and turned
through stands of oak and ash and sycamore
until, to my surprise, i rounded the bend
and found myself in a silent grove of pines.
no other soul came down the path; not the merest
hint of wind stirred the tree-tops.
i thought, for a moment, i had stumbled
into a graveyard, for the branches that
met my eye looked skeletal and bare of needles,
but then golden sunlight beamed through
the boughs, and i saw a whisper of green
glow like a slender flame; i held my breath
in wonder, unsure of what i was made witness.