Poetry / First Sunrise

Hollow moonlight halts the perpetual motion of a
restless and violent winter.
Cracked cold winds slice through the night
like ghastly Valkyries consumed with war.
The only audible gesture of nature sounds of a small creek
pushing against the silted edges of a frozen riverbank
As hills teem with the huddled masses
of deep green pine trees,
They fold over each other, as if to catch a glimpse
of the other side of the hill.
Along the fringe of a flying hawk's vantage point
there is a man staring off beyond the crest of the foothills.
Silent and completely immobile.
He, with his dog as if they were watching something
extraordinarily beautiful occur
sits and waits
Tearfully wanting for his next ray of sunshine