Dekalb County in the Mist

Hay’s sweet scent hanging
In the crystals caught in the light
Of a sun not yet risen.
They climb the plumes
Of spent breath jettisoned
Above impatient hooves that tear
Hard brown sod exposing
The earth’s heart to the ghost
Of a January sky.

Phantom arms of a maple reach
Far and wide to shelter
Him from the morning snow.
Majestic and silent,
The beast and the tree,
Glow in the brilliance of the new dawn.


C 2012 Jamie McCann