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