Moonset, and Orion leans
into horizon’s rim,
the Pleiades glitter, pale
star-island washed in dark blue sea,
and the morning silence trembles
with the cranes’ chaotic calls,
and the air trembles
with their rowing wings.
Such a morning trembles
with its small joys, small deaths,
first sparrowhawks shriek,
and the hind and her fawn slip
among dawn-dusky willows,
to hide among the quiet trees,
from the trembling rapier light.