a single pane 
of glass
frames the not yet spring
branches intricate curves
forming pleasing and jagged 
patterns
the negative space a contrast
even in the dull
and sunless afternoon

I still
breath
and attention caught
snagged by the bare twigs
and I know I am looking at promise and power

I enter this contemplation
cross into these woods
this mystery
as always
stumbling into the sacred
as I go