This is the scene that greets me as I exit my car,
this small stand of pines. I know they are there;
I feel them before I turn to face them. Sometimes
I have to walk a bit first, before I am ready for the sight
of them. Sometimes I have to walk the upper pond’s
entire circumference, wending my way through the forest
of pines that lines its western bank, before I am calm
and empty enough to absorb their amazing hello.