green pine
white sky
low morning
yellow dawn
the splintered heaven
of light falling through clouds
I stand in the dirt
and I look out at the mountains
and I feel the thin
ponderosa breeze
I smell the air and it is sweet
I’m not sure whether
to smile or cry
I used to walk the woods
and look for answers
but I was wrong
for there’s no need to look
to linger to long for
there is only here
between the quiet clouds
and the blush of red
on the aspen tips
