Mornings are cold
in the mountains.
The sun has yet to raise
its head over
the forested peeks
rising above us.
The chickens are awake
squawking for scratch
they know is coming
while the puppies yelp
for the mother
that is running the hills
leaving them hidden
and safe from prying eyes.
Yesss. Great great descriptions! Keep working on this and I know I’ll be seeing it in a journal somewhere!
Your opening line makes this poem. Strong and powerful. Wow.