Out of the Window and Over the Swamp

One fine morning through a window I can see Far across low clouds of glitter-filled fog Above grass wet with the morning dews Below a sky that breaks into many autumn hues Near a subdued creek, running fast and free The world seems at peace in the valley bog. A brown shape appears, a burst from the distant white It stumbles and stops, looks with care from side to side The beast cannot see me from where she stands at bay But it is a good thing. The sight of me would drive her far away Her body stood shivering, looking so very weak, so slight And with a sharp jolt, she once more began her stride Through early morning mist did my eyes Get to watch such a pitiful, beautiful creature pass by.