The Lane at Dawn

A sliver of moon floats above the darkened

massif. Light, reflected through darkness warns

of coming day. A hawk screeches out good

morning. Or is it telling me to stay away?

A symphony of cheeps and squeaks tells of

unseen hundreds of feathered friends beginning

the labors of their day.

Skeletal giants loom over

the shattered detritus of those who have fallen.

Birds linger on branches of decay reaching

skyward through lying foliage.

Color deepens as light intensifies. A cool breeze

belies the heat the sun will bring. An owl calls out,

announcing the end of her nightly hunt. My father’s

dog wanders about, aware of my standing, listening.

She is at ease with my pause. When I turn for home,

leaving this small forest, she will lead the way on a path

I have always known.