The Organ Speaks
By Edna S. Dustin
Your rich voice vibrates echoes of the past;
In it we hear the chant of pioneers,
Legato notes of plodding oxen hoofs
And wagon wheels that turn back through the years.
They take us to a grove of tall white pines
With winged coloratures; where Boreas plays,
And draws his rhythmic notes from fine-strung boughs
With deep crescendos in rich overtures.
In thundering notes we hear the bison hoofs
Of herds whose hides were boiled down for the glue.
And chiming scales of axes forming pipes,
And hum of saws as they assembled you.
Small wonder your great chest expands with pride
And echoes that past caravan’s refrain!
What other organ’s voice has laced the earth
And made God’s white pine forest live again?