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JANUARY: FIRST LIGHT

I retrace the path
of the old railroad tracks
just before light. No noise:
the barn owl drifting into sleep,
the birds not yet awake.
The iron scars
have been melted down
for a war long fought and gone.
Then the evening edged out
by the first band of light,
across the strips of trees.
I know
I donıt have long to go:
the sleepless night that brought me
to the woods behind the house
is over now, and what fears I had
I left behind me there.
In the distance I make out rabbit tracks
and behind them, something larger,
a dog perhaps, on its trail.
The trail leads nowhere
and the rabbitıs safe.
A world without predators: the parentıs
dream. Why wonıt it pass?
Look: the starlingıs pulled that ribbon
of worm, the dayıs unraveling,
weıre moving on, exhausted, ready to begin.
Northern