Into the Wild Spaces

Awake, under whispering pines

Giants shoulder to shoulder, I

Walk at their ankles.

A scattering of Red Cedar, chicks

under Hens' wings. They loiter like houseguests.

Here and there a Holly — How did you get in here? —

Sharp-witted with bright eyes.

I'm looking for the Zen of early winter, a

Blanket of thick needles,

Pillow a bracket of ferns,

my book the alternating,

Vertical

Stripes of Light

and Shadow, between which

All Life happens.