The dawn seems to be
Starting late.
So cold I can see my
Breath.
I feel like my inhalations
And exhalations are waking
The birds.
A deer stands
Alone in a meadow.
Tag: pasture
Weeping Willow
In the spring
This tree has
A thousand myriad
Branches, tender gold shoots
Softer than silk.
In this wild unpeopled field
Who does this willow belong to?
Wordman of Alcatraz 