Look outside the window,

The pine tree with a million needles,

Needles that glisten at their tips,

With a million beads of raindrops,

Trace the drop that darts down,

Towards the gnarly roots,

Roots that are strong and old,

Immovable like truth,

The narrow trail winds around,

This ancient knotted wood,

Wood that has weathered,

Decades of winter rain,

Go down this muddy trail,

Into the misty forest,

The forest that is home,

To a million pine trees,

Further down the misty path,

Hear the waterfalls gushing,

Waterfalls that plunge down cliffs,

And echo through the hills,

Look up at the tallest branches,

That hide a stormy sky,

A sky that is rumbling,

With a billion more raindrops.