A bird drifts down from a high branch, sings its way to the clearing, then quiets, resting. I breathe in the warm scent of pine, seeking deeper that stillness, a moment caught in the movement of wings;
- Gary Snyder
A bird drifts down from a high branch, sings its way to the clearing, then quiets, resting. I breathe in the warm scent of pine, seeking deeper that stillness, a moment caught in the movement of wings;