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 that have fallen.
They 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 forever known.
© Sean C. Jones, 2021
