Dawn's watch

Early hunting light

Thread the early-morning darkness,
feet upon a foot-sure path,
softly crunching snow-white dusting,
leaves protesting as I pass.

Barren branches sieve the moonlight,
silent standing along the way.
I set watching for my quarry,
patient-waiting for the day.

Ever winking, faintly blinking, stars
fade to a bluing sky.
As a wind comes gently shaking,
waking, sparrows flitting nigh.

Creeping golden o'er branches,
Slowly sliding down the hill,
comes the eastern sky-borne pyre-
Never faster than his will.

Beyond the flitting and the flying,
through the shifting light of dawn,
hear a stepping, cautious tepping,
mother doe and daughter fawn.