Night Walk

Walk in the midnight woods at Winter's end. The scimitar moon hangs on a cedar. Venus blossoms from a naked branch. Underfoot, wrapped in soft fir-needled comforters, restless seeds roll over, touching their partners in a dream of roots. Emptiness whispers from tree to tree. Daylight has withdrawn, but not far: it vibrates in the dark. They call this "nature." I can't find nature anywhere. Everything on earth is supernatural.