He walked to do the early morning chores But shades of turning night held back his hands; His heart to follow beat of smallest life That arched itself to mount a fragile thread.... The morning star replacing desert moon, A grouse close to the soil for warmth in vain, A rodent slipping through the Yucca blades And reptile quiet with sure sense of gain; These and the distant ring of whelping cry Brought in the streak of mole-gray patch of day, And not alone the haunting timeless voice Of that wild herdsman signalling his pack, -- The lone coyote sending to the gulch A mesa's rebels living with her night. |