white pines draped in snow
fierce winds shepherd the new storm
birds will need more food
white pines draped in snow
fierce winds shepherd the new storm
birds will need more food
waking up to snow
brushed on wide arm pine branches
doves waiting for sun
Awake not by choice,
my mind wanders freely
to think about change
as a passage, a progress.
Seeing light through the window
too early for sunrise,
the lamp of the huntress
sends beams without warmth.
As the moon sets I rise,
glance out at the shapes
tall pines against sky,
emerging from darkness
to frame the new day.