by Paul J. Willis
Jeffrey pine hold out their arms
where we begin. They drop their cones
whenever they are good and ready—
and we kick them aside with a little dance.
The creek is still here,
and the aspen too, all in a flutter,
nervous about company.
When we bed down for the night,
the stars will watch, and so will the bears.
They will say to each other, These people.
—Hoover Wilderness