Distant blue field
further, still the dawn
warmth of day, falls away
disappears into a
fragrant piney forest
a path – twine and twigs, mossy laid
soft steps, of hoof prints made
in tunnels wooded, dimly lit
gray lichen amid the moss
raindrops magnified, gazing through
boletus spongy staining blue
fat berries, salal and thimble red
sparrow rakes his nesting bed
when all the light has gone away
night slips silent into another day.