Winter Light
The noon sun hangs low in the southern sky,
Shafts barely skimming tops of ancient fir trees.
Their sideways glance invites quiet seeing,
Where slight movement spirals into ripples.
Stillness arises, sustains, and dissolves.
Serenity amplifies the details.
Sunlight soon slips below the horizon,
Midnight satin darkness shimmers and stirs.
Silent dreams reveal secrets and stories
So ancient they have no start or ending
Cycles weave beginningless time into
the limitless net of illusion
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