First Light

The dawn stretches and yawns,
With stealth like precision,
Eroding the ebony robes of the night,
Enticing the sun to once more rise,
With shafts of celestial light.

Nocturnal creatures burrow,
With haste into the ground.
Mindful not to make much sound.
For fear of their lair being found,
Despite existing deep underground.

The forest omits an eerie sound,
Of marauding deer all around.
A proud stag barking can be heard,
With vigilance he observes his herd.
Protection, being the optical word.

Breda Ware