44. The Pines

Hear the rumble,

Oh, hear the crash!

The great trees tumble.

The strong boughs smash!

Men with saws

Are cutting the pines

That marched like soldiers

In straight green lines.

Seventy years

Have made them tall.

It takes ten minutes

To make them fall.

But breaking free

With never a care,

The pine cones leap

Through the clear, bright air.

                       Margaret Mahy