I wait all day
to see the magic
of early evening light
stream through the forest
gather on hemlock needles
in small, radiant pearls.
So different from the day’s vast, high sun
that dons no particular character—
different, too, from maple, oak
birch and pine that flatten
the descending beams
merely brighten the leafy green.
Yes, it’s the hemlocks that take me
as I watch the glittering delicacy
wonder just how my arboreal elders
some centuries old
pool rays into tiny, shining spheres
that bring such joy
-Roxanne E. Bogart
Roxanne E. Bogart is a wildlife biologist and writer, whose poems have appeared in The Burlington Poetry Journal, Poetry Quarterly, and Naturewriting.com. She spends her personal time hiking in the woods and meadows of Western Massachusetts, where she gathers inspiration for her writing. Visit roxannebogart.com.