of a January morning

Morning is promised here;
tucked in the
bitter-cold corners of darkness lingering
stillness beguiling in its enchantment
the Wolf Moon of the Western sky now soft
veiled by night's arch
and
the condensation of everything
darkness & chill press against me
from every direction
yet how can I leave this wondrous hour
so ancient this black before the sun

a rabbit suddenly appears to my right
a shadowed flutter
furred & furtive
as enthralled as I am ... 

holding this promise of day