The sun rises here I’m told
But I see it only through peepholes
Behind closed doors
Veils of white clouds and fog
And tall green Douglas firs
The sun is shy
Splendid I’m sure but it tiptoes
Spotlight on misty mountains, green vistas
By shining less it assures
Surreptitiously sneaks in to the dark folds of the night
Silent and invisible like some ancient folklore
