Monday, November 12, 2012

Love of Light

Up too early, waiting for daybreak to push back the tide of worry. For a morning person all things are possible once the sun comes up.

A faint light rises, the last nice day of the year or so I hear, with gossamer fogs and fluffy jet trails and cows hurrying across the horizon, just awakened and coming down to eat. Stars are still out, big glowing globes sprinkled here and there. Night to the west, just past the edge of the heifer barn and cow yard.

The tiny silver moon sliver is devoured by a tatter of dark grey cloud, then spit out again a little later. That razor edge of shining crescent is too sharp to swallow I guess.

I want to stay out in the half-light and watch the sun come up, but the silly kitties are following me places that are not safe from coyotes and foxes and such left-over creatures of the night. 

We put them in the chicken house last night as they have figured out how to escape the milk house and prowl the darkness. Coyotes are coming right through the yard these days stirring up the dogs with their wild, dark hunt. We would prefer that they confine their menu to rats, rather than ratters, but I hate to count on them.

Cat-riona and Pumpkin stayed in the hen house, but mama, Caledonia, was out hunting herself when I went out to release them from their prison. Must have found a hole somewhere.


Dani said...

We've got coyotes prowling here too. Neighbors have lost a few cats.

joated said...

Had a red fox walk through the yard three nights ago and all I could think was, "I wonder if Miss Kitteh is aware of how lucky she is I brought her into the house?"

It IS a jungle out there and little creatures can bedivided into groups: the quick or the dead; the eater or the eaten.

Cathy said...

I was about to sit down to reread a poem I wrote last week. Thought I'd give it a breather and enjoy a fresh reading.
Then I read your post.
I can handle one string of luminous words . .
but on you go . . . weaving magic upon mystery . .
I'm going in to read this to hubby . .
Then . . . I dunno . . . maybe clean the garage . .
let that poem rest for the winter . . . ;)

Susan said...

You're waxing poetic. I like that. Too many writers refuse to go there.

Sorry about Sadie.

threecollie said...

Dani, they are awful! they run right through the yard right next to the house. The kids when out with the gun the other night but they were just too quick

Joated, Becky wants to bring these kitties

Cathy, you write fantastic poetry, you know you do. And yours is actually poetry, not just random words. But thanks!

Susan, thanks, we miss her.

Shirley said...

Beautiful, lyrical description of one of my favourite times of day.f

Cathy said...

Nope. Sorry, but you're able to string words together that I could never come up with . . . it's your totally original view of the world . . it reflects your unique vantage.

And it's awesome.

Terry and Linda said...

I love the early morning gloaming and the late evening gloom. Like you say for a morning person first light is precious.

A fox or something has built a nest in our neighbors waste pipe. I should have gone up there ON TO HIS PROPERTY and closed up the pipe properly for now the carnivore comes walking on silent feet into our yard and sniffing by the trash cans and the chicken house.

Fuzzy hates to miss barking at the critter, but I hate having Fuzzy out there in his old age.

I usually win.


threecollie said...

Shirley, thank you!

Cathy, you are so kind to me and I am very grateful for it!

Linda, dang, that is awful. I have never seen varmints like this year! We even had a possum track in a cow pie IN THE BARN behind a cow! Yow!