Two Miles In

Sharp stars turn
framed by the treetops.
A wood mouse churns last years leaves;
the owl drops, and has a meal
for an owlet in her hands.

In the quiet morning
the dew, the heavy cold dew
covers everything.
I shiver in my dew wet jeans and shoes
through the meadow grass
to the stream.
The brook trout wait in the quiet narrow water.