Winter Fasting

(or, An Awakening In Vermont.)


i stepped alone into the Night

and breathed the bracing air,

i gazed upon a moonlit cloud

through Tree with branches bare

And slowly I began to sense a sense that could not be,

The tree whose branches I gazed through

was clearly watching me

From tip to toe not from the cold

My every chill bump raised

I could not would not break the spell

Though famished, weak and dazed

At last I said, “Tree, I must turn, I want to see more sky.”

The tree gazed up into our night, and said, “Yes, so do I.”



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