Today’s morning:

I awoke to find that the trees
behind my house
with their shades of auburn and pale orange,
in some hazy fog, 

had become one glorious mountain.

The pines bursted into arms 
as they slept.

I sense, in moments like these
I am made from the Earth -- 
entrails of dirt,
uprooted, centered,

a mirror of soft, strong, delicate things.