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.