perhaps i shall just stay out here.
and for this one time not ask
old Muir for any more lessons.
perhaps it is better to let windstorm
inform more so than hearth or fire.
yet it is of little value to be so
ancient; framed majestic by starlight.
in earnest while sought after and so much
and yet - it's wood is hard. its bough
i question it - its solace produced
and granite, unyielding to many
upon what force and such
oceanic tides - and, lunar relentless reach.
i wish this blizzard would pass.
i am schooled so much the better
for its lesson.
and it breaks - the sound so repeated
it is no more strange than the elk.
had i known this is what i wanted
i might have stayed indoors.