The fresh-scented pine boughs swayed above my head as I lay under it, hoping that a needle wouldn't drop into my eye. The rough, dark bark that coated its wood dripped rosin in a few places where woodpeckers had been, and squirrels ran up and down the trunk of the tree, chattering to each other. A few snapped branches lay around me. I got up, brushing the brown needles that coated the ground under me off my clothes, and just watched.

By owl, February 16, 2013.