Beginnings
Faint light
A cold, waning moon
Illuminates the trail.
The early morning wind brings
Smells of frost and old leaves.
Every sense aware while slowly moving "like a thief in the night".
A rustling to the left.
Steps?
A sudden crashing through the brush
Halts progress mid-stride.
Sounds amplified by darkness.
The mind becomes magician, trickster.
Was it him?
Will he be back?
A barely perceptible change,
A lightening in the East
Advises "make haste".
Reaching that tall, familiar companion.
Climb up,
Settle in
Twenty feet above terra firma.
Forget the last encounter,
Focus on what lies ahead.
The day has promise.
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