“Happy new year”
  I say to the wise old trees.
    “Just enjoy the day.”                               

Trees don’t talk to me –
  their long, open sighs welcome
    all who cooperate                     

The trees sleep standing
   They don’t see the pond freezing
      All winter they sleep               

Winter sunset –
  bright sun and clouds, but not warm,
    West ridge on fire                                          

No sound    no movement
   sun setting through frozen woods –
      Aha!   a wren’s song.                    

Path is snow-icy
  detail and depth perception
    heightened on the braes

Wandering thru clans
    of trees in the open woods
      I feel connections.                 

Looking with the sun
   upstream in the local Glen     
      so many bare trunks