Wilding the Morning

 sculling morning air
           the cool flap of it
        wet-sheet snick at my neck
      I pull on my hood

                 in the east
               a huge candle is rising
                    the great round nub 
                blunt as thuggery

          shooting light 
             like sky wharves 
                 & white fug ferries 
             docked between trees

                          bird engines, 
                 frisson & enflapment
                shrieks & eerie laughter
                    wings haunted, skidding
                   
                   a man in a cap
             5 foot seven and stocky
           sneakers like match scratch
                   butt out the gravel

                 the dog barks
                       skitters, fences,
                   the man laughs
                 two short chords

        I shrug deeper
                call the dog
            my voice
                  like hollow bells

This morning on 6:15am walk (earlier than usual), the dog barked at another walker. He never does that. I decided to take this small incident and try to spook it up a bit.