I leaned against the trunk of a tree.
A few faint clouds dilated the sky, and the light
was pure sweetness.
Rocks spread out beneath the endless air,
the color of embers or a fire’s agate.
I breathed deeply, that’s all, under a tree.

It was neither dawn nor a dream.
That’s what the world was like.
Gleaming, the pines were languid greenery
and I could hear the pine nuts crackle as they fell.