![](https://notesfromthewoods.com/wp/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/112523-Looking-North-at-Sunset-1024x819.jpg)
I glance through the tree house window,
a wave of condensation at its base,
a product of the cold of the late afternoon.
The boughs of the spruce surrender their color
to the shadows, but beyond them a faint light
lingers in the mist, and the distant lavender hills
rise to a soft golden sky. “Self portrait.” The words
float into my mind, the view becoming a mirror.