The pines sigh only with the wind
Until the poet climbs the mountain
And hears their silent sighs

Do the pines sigh
Because they want more
That “once I was loved 
but now he is gone” sigh
Or do they sigh in contentment
That end of a day well spent sigh
Or perhaps they sigh with relief
The cake is out of the oven and well risen sigh
Or perhaps they sigh with satisfied love
After a long but not particularly deep 
Telephone call with a grown child sigh

Or do they sigh for God?
Do they pine for the divine?

Perhaps they sigh
Because they caught sight of God
Tangled in their branches
Held fast in their roots