Trailing pennants: plastic bags caught in the trees beside the road; yet also maybe the Spanish moss that hangs from so many of the trees here.

A moment of transcendence I experienced once, alone in a state park of surpassing beauty-I could never convey in words what I experienced that day. Yet, I hope that this verse may at least in part, convey the wonder and joy of that moment.

In the evening, I saw amid the grass shining points of light. I do not know what these may be; but how they shined in the dying light!

The sight of all the pines extending below me down the hill, criss-crossed every which way, leaning far on their rooted anchors.

Sight of a green butterfly twirling on the currents of the air. I watched it so for as long as it remained in my sight. Then I went and wrote this verse.

There is much so, for which we may weep; yet there remains still light.

Written so, throughout the course of an hour, more or less; but I think now it is good.