What brutal moonlight persisting throughout the day

has convinced us this stillness is meditative?

sawed-off end of a log

sawed-off end of a log
now riddled
with openings

maple-leaf viburnum / turns out its true color / is viburnum

at the trailhead / a maple limb grows down / into the earth

always has vacancies— dead maple

nothing but the sound of the wind hissing in the weeds

even with these special seats squirrels still make a mess

now the leaves get more of the sky than just sunlight

pale clumps of mountain laurel light our way

all the wild birds are scolding something in the hedge

I don’t notice the hunter standing in a tree

I hold onto an apple core until it turns brown