Pine Trees in Snow
by Sarah Sutro

I lie in the heat
of a Bangkok night: dreaming
quiet woods,
the swoosh of skis marking freshness.
travelling in the far field,
cold, bright sun, sharp
scent of pine needles
and new snow.

    splashes in the pool,
    sunlight on palm leaves,
    outside the open window.

and the wide arc
of our life
gets wider still –
following the edge of the
field and the light cresting
on the edge of the hill.