Phantoms of fog
w a l k   into morning
throughout the forest,
s t r e t c h i n g....y a w n i n g...

Secreted fauna
in shadows, c r e e p
by fern and bracken
yet asleep.

Cool winds howl,
a kind of calling-
forest wolves
hunting...c r a w l i n g...

watchers watching
in the breeze,
eyes upon
the aspen trees.