Cry morning,
and send the wrens fluttering skyward
from their roosts in the brush,
nesting closer to the ground
as the weather turns cold
Dawn breaks,
in a flurry of kaleidoscope colors,
working their way under the black
and lifting the Veil of Darkness
high above their heads in triumph...
A night spent wandering the wood
brings daylight to my eyes
in tints and tinges,
On fallen logs i step as to make no sound,
branches held away as i walk past
by my my trusty quarterstaff
Listening to the waking of the wood;
the scrambling of squirrels,
scurrying of chipmunks,
the rambling gait of the hart,
turkeys stretching before they start
on their morning constitutional
and all of this is not unusual;
just another day in God's Green Acre...
(11-03-10)
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