I was staring across the water at the rim of the mountain
Where the sun was due, watching the lengthening shades of pink and red.
I had tramped through mud to reach the bank of the river.
A solitary duck to the left swam off slowly.
I
walked to the right and was attacked by what appeared to be a bat
That
glided only inches from my face
Coming from nowhere and disappearing
just as quickly.
I was at the wrong place at the right time.
The lighting was still somewhat dim.
I realized it might have been a swallow
For
a number of them suddenly appeared
Skimming the surface of the
river
Flying back and forth rapidly
Plucking insects I could not see.
I had
never remembered seeing swallows at this spot before.
I looked up at the pale-white almost full moon
Glowing larger than life in the stark sky.
All
I could do was stand there and stare.
To the far right a pair
of ducks near the shoreline suddenly reared
One slightly ahead
of the other thrashing the water skidding several feet
Before
heading for parts unknown.
I gazed, again, at the large bright
white ring of the moon
Noticing an outer light-pink concentric
circle.
I never knew the river at dawn to be like this.
I had almost stayed home that morning.
The spell the dawn had on me finally broke.
I
returned home depositing my mud-encrusted slippers at the front door.
My
walk was over.
