Five a. m. and the Pleiades
Have risen in the South East;
Taurus lies half concealed
Above the ridge line firs.

Alone, on the beach near the outlet,
On a self-made bed of contoured sand,
I watched the distant, crescent moon
Set o'er the camp end of the lake.

Then without restlessness or disturbance,
Simply slept through the wilderness night.

There were no bears.

Now with the paling of the East,
I hear the familiar howl-cry of a loon,
And from across the adjoining meadow
Smell the approach of morning.

Winston is gone; the others scattered,
And 1965 seems very far away.

08/07/2008

Author's Note: On Cascade Creek, Wyoming.

Posted on 08/10/2008
Copyright © 2024 Leonard M Hawkes