(The third poem from The Woods )

Pulse.
Sway.
Gotta look quickly.
Don’t look away.
Like the heartbeat of the forest
But of light not of sound.

Quiet.
Listen.

Can you still hear it?
A looping repeat.
A still quiet bleat.

Insistent.
Persistent.
Do Not Delete.

This poem describes a visual effect as the sun rose through a thick stand of Jack pines. There was some camera or computer manipulation to accentuate a striking magenta color. There sun would pulse as the pines swayed.