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.