Before the Sun Rose

 

April’s moon is on the wane.

This morning’s sky bled fire

burnt ashes at sunrise –

Not a drop of rain.

The Gate

I walk through the creaking gate

under a pre dawn sky

Ice cracks,

splits still air.

Ducks rise up

over serpentine waters.

Geese gather in v formations.

Every tree

spreads her crown of bare branches.

The sky begins to shiver.

I breath in golden

crystals of New Born Light.

 

Every morning finds me at the river’s edge in the inky darkness of a pre dawn sky giving thanks for the return of my joy and the gift of living in such a hallowed place.

the eye of the god

 

An owl swoops

from the cottonwood

to the juniper.

A piercing orange light

peers through

shaggy scrub.

The eye of the god –

-Nature –

singing

up the dawn.