Old plastic case in the red clay
Hidden where the tall needles sway
Under the wire of the power line
Sinking deep in the scent of pine
Silver and pine in a heavy sleep
Secrets that the frozen needles keep
Hold the light in a glass eye stare
Waiting for a ghost to take it there
Leather strap snapped by a winter gale
Metal skin rusted and thin and pale
Burying the ghosts of a summer day
Where the wild forest hides the way
Copper wires hum in the heavy air
Cold wind combing through the cedar hair
Sleeping sound in a bed of brown
Far from the noise of the county town
Silver and pine in a heavy sleep
Secrets that the frozen needles keep
Hold the light in a glass eye stare
Waiting for a ghost to take it there
Click of the shutter in a dead dead zone
Sinking down to the marrow bone
Frozen frame of a long gone face
Lost in the grip of a lonely place
Black film curled like a salted fish
Buried deep like a dead man's wish
No one coming to clear the brush
Just the wind in a sudden rush
Silver and pine in a heavy sleep
Secrets that the frozen needles keep
Hold the light in a glass eye stare
Waiting for a ghost to take it there
Silver and pine. Under the line.
Sinking down deep.
