After reading Gary Snyder's
The Earthly Wild Places
from This Present Moment,
lingering
in the bedroom's Great Ship of Dreams,
I contemplate,
for a fleeting, pleasant moment,
whether I should sip my second
strong black up in bed,
but soon arrive at the decision
to have it downstairs by the Mac,
while going through the photographs
I took late last night
in the wilderness
of an untouched, primeval forest
that we discovered last November,
less than a mile from the farm,
where I've also recorded minuscule streams
for thoughtful, mindful sound art