Winter Sun
Our old dog, Xena, and I were up early, the legacy of age, I guess. As we started our walk, the air was crisp and still, the sky just beginning to show its blue with a faint orange tinge along the eastern horizon and Venus bright, untwinkling, above. No airplanes, an unexpected benefit of the pandemic.
As we crossed the bridge, the dark waters of the creek contrasted with the white snow covered fields. I headed up the hill to take in the view but Xena waited below investigating new smells. Two worlds one visual the other olfactory. The realization that all this happens every morning only intensifies the wonder.
winter sun rises
bearing false promise of warmth
my coat keeps me
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