Stone House and Red Pine

Is a wave really motion?
What you need is one of those
Hidden nooks next to a stream

Up in the mountains somewhere
Where you can sit in the sun
Between gnarled trees, moss, and grass

And feel like you’re in your own
Vitrine—one of those places
People of your modest means

Can only visit, rarely,
For a few hours in-between,
A privilege even then,

Since not everyone gets them.
If you could live in your glass
Display, your terrarium,

You small and sleepy lizard,
For whatever hours are left
To be alert in yourself,

Watching the days and weather
Rotate like unsynchronized,
Nearly silent cuckoo clocks,

You would . . . What? What would you do?
When it’s so quiet, the mind
Opens; it’s so quiet when

There’s so much time. When the mind
Opens, fantasies end. When
Fantasies end, there’s time. When.