Suburban Creep

In the early morning mist
The red-orange orb hangs
Suspended just above the
Purple-blue outline of the
Ancient walnut tree whose
Bare branches hang tiredly
Over the grazing cattle.
Whistling wings of Pintails
Rise from the broken surface
Of the once glassy pond
To soar above the thinning vapors
As they flee the night-fears
Seeking their sustenance
Among the skeletal remains
Of last summer's bumper crop.
Broken by the barking of a
Farmer's watchful friend
The stillness gives way to
Sounds of motors running,
Tires humming, children calling,
And life returning to the
Hectic pace of another day.