The light teases the horizon, a gray line kissing the mountains,
night shift critters begin their treks to holes, and caves, and hollows -
while the day birds test their voices, in tentative songs.
We pass the raccoon brothers, who stand to watch us, warning us that
there is nothing to see here - move along.
Further, last season's rabbits venture out to watch us,
knowing from experience we are mostly harmless.
And above we hear the dark wings cutting through the air, before we
are regaled by the morning caws of the crows. We pause to watch them overhead,
and in that pause we can hear, only a little ahead of us, the yips and brays of coyotes
mixing it up with the wild donkeys.
It is mating season and the coyotes are more brazen, the donkeys more obstinate.
Thankful for the warning of the crows, we head a different direction, avoiding
the dust up that we can hear plainly now.
Picking through rocks and grasses, finding the trails of our four-legged neighbors,
we head home - to coffee and computer, and the business of being a human -
knowing that our early morning is sacrosanct, and keeps us anchored to the earth.
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"Wind in her mane" 
Love this: ” our early morning is sacrosanct, and keeps us anchored to the earth.” xoA ❤