Psithurism

 There’s a great and beautiful cedar outside the door
 That lays shadow on my ins and outs, my exits and returns.
 One day it will fall and bring my brittle house down;
 I know this and do nothing to prevent it.
  
 While I still can, I will believe this shifting shade is kind;
 I hear love in the hissing sting of wind through these needled boughs.