When does day begin?
It isn’t, it isn’t, isn’t
Is.
Natures reostat turns slowly on a Winter dawn.
I shiver in the chill.
A bitter breeze.
Icy suns first glimmer reflected on a snow
dot
caught in an oaks bark.
Darkness evaporates into tree lines,
perpendicular, black on black.
Dappled stone walls,
snow,stone, stone, snow, stone.
Deer print emerges from shadow,
catching light on its edge.
Suddenly,
green pine forest fortress
surrounds.
It wasn’t, it wasn’t, wasn’t,
is.