It Was Early

It was early,
    which has always been my hour
        to begin looking
            at the world

and of course,
    even in the darkness,
        to begin
            listening into it,

especially
    under the pines
        where the owl lives
            and sometimes calls out

as I walk by,
    as he did
        on this morning.
            So many gifts!

What do they mean?
    In the marshes
        where the pink light
            was just arriving

the mink
    with his bristle tail
        was stalking
            the soft-eared mice,

and in the pines
    the cones were heavy,
        each one
            ordained to open.

Sometimes I need
    only to stand
        wherever I am
            to be blessed.

Little mink, let me watch you.
    Little mice, run and run.
        Dear pine cone, let me hold you
            as you open.