Four Rings

12.12.21

I see in my mind a small throne of twigs
padded in snow
raised from the ground
by a log.

It is halled by the trunks of thick trees.

The seat is empty except of fluffed snow.

It seems fit for a forest mouse
but it is open to the place of owls –
bare to the sky and canopy.

It is quiet.
It is morning.
It is bright and buried around the throne
are four rings.