In the Forest
This is the day when
a mountain suddenly
came upon me and stands before me
I can hear tiny berries and
not-yet-ripened small fruits
with greenish faces
rolling and giggling on the ground
I sat on the tree stump
next to a big log
looking at an old pine tree
that was dead half way
but I know
the sky that the tree is embracing
is still bright and blue
I can hear the whispers of pine cones
bashfully hid behind pine needles
Where is the beginning of the gentle breeze
blowing in between those leaves?