As the light of day
begins to rise,
the earth revolves and
the eagle cries...
A smoke-like mist
over field and river,
as if to a time of
bow and quiver...
Dew of the morning
drips down off the thistle,
and a glow on the trees mark
of nights reluctant dismissal...
The higher the sun
the brighter the forest,
the birds in their perches
sing a welcoming chorus...
©bd_caissie
B