In the Forest at Dawn

Behind dark leaves, its velvet shines –
hints, streaks. It stratifies
night’s margins, almost undefines
the darkness, stealing without noise.

Now tawny striae slip across
trunks of trees, and edge them whiter.
Indistinct amber lines emboss
the lawn; and now a flickering tiger

pads there, pauses, half unveils
a throat that’s taloned by the sun –
till other symmetries dispel
this blinding one.

Print