The Dawn Walker

The Dawn Walker On the moor's curved edge darkness cloaks the hills. The stillness before daylight hangs on the dawn's breath. Through the grey silhouettes, the sentries of trees, a solitary walker steps in the silence of a sleeping world. No echoes down a valley hung with frost. No bird song or motion in the vacuum of a soundless world. He walks through woods in the skeleton darkness. The light begins to melt the grey moor's edge. He listens in silence, sees the bright mist rising. And, as the dawn erupts on the smudged crimson sky, he hears the skylark warbling, hovering high above the hillside.