Before sunrise stand
by the willow stay
in shadowland before
grey light unveils
yellow leaves frosted in cold lace like
intricately lined faces.
See the slight silver snow slick cleared
where night animals padded;
steadfast pilgrims navigating darkness.
Breathe here deep as the willows roots because
what else matters?
But your cultivated determination
again and again in ritual rites
forming this beautiful life
out of mist.