Pine Needles

In the dream, I took my usual walk on the mountain path

And cried heartily under a pine tree

As if the cry had opened the tightly-wrapped pinecones

I was so lost in my own grief

That I forgot it's a dream

That I wasn't aware the pine tree by my side

Had been listening to me in silence all the time

Scattering its fine pine needles around me

When I woke up, I couldn't remember what the pine tree looked like

But the guilt, as sharp as pine needles