This  Morning

 

This Morning

Between deep night

and soft dawn the

mist covers fields

spreading over daisies

climbing bunchberries

wetting seeds, leaves.

Milky smoke roams

back and forth

wandering voiceless

through mountains

of morning.

Whistling in fog

past sycamores

warblers seesaw

up cloudy layers

up up circling

toward heaven.

build archways as tips of trees

touch each other. What was

shaded green becomes

nocturnal shadow. A

crescent moon hangs from

heaven. Light tracing

foliage falls dropping

dusty deep upon ground.

Secrets lie inside the

edged shadow. Animals

hide under darkness

resounding through night

as leaves rustle.

All changing except

this pattern of what

is now formed.