He comes out of the woods
in the predawn hour,
a shape of shadow
unraveling from the trees,
where night still clings
to bark and breath.
At the water’s edge
he pauses
between worlds of dark and light,
where silence has weight
and time moves softly.
He steps forward,
his presence vast yet quiet,
as if the day itself
has waited for him.
He steps into the lake
without a sound.
Each movement a whisper,
a subtle stirring of light and mist
as he wades deeper
into its cold, waiting stillness.
Below him,
his reflection barely wakes,
soft and wavering.
A second life held in water
as his head lowers
beneath the surface
and rises again,
dripping with the first light of day.
He feeds in silence,
drawing from the hidden world below,
He does not hurry.
He has no need to.
The dawn unfolds around him,
slow and reverent,
light finding antler and crown,
turning breath to gold.
And in this quiet hour,
in the stillness of dawn,
He welcomes another day.
Image captured in Rocky Mountain National Park
Summer, 2021
Canon 7D Mark II
Canon EF 400mm f/2.8L IS II USM Lens
