Quiet Coming

In the quiet of the early morning, before the sun comes up

          when the birds are still hidden sleeping

and the dew is on the grass

In the time before those things start over

          that make it like it is today

when the world seems as it was before we ever came this way

In the building light of the coming dawn, colors grow ever clearer

          as if my eyes were born again

in the details of the mountains, just beginning to emerge

In the quiet that I find within myself in the early morning

          I glimpse once more the things that I am missing still

but soon they disappear again in the brightness of the sun

In that rare stillness that comprises the very early morning

          when issues have been slept away

the potential of all the world brims over with possible new beginnings

In the cool sweet stillness left behind by the evening rain

          there is a sense of preservation

and an unearned cleansing mercy daubs my sleepy eyes

In the light that rims the horizon before the sun appears

          come colors to the landscape emerging from the gray

perspectives created quickly that must fade during the heat of day

In those early moments when the world can still make sense

          I awaken slowly with the birds and a draught of predawn cool

and through such a lens our previous despair seems very much out of place

In the hour where respectful whispers do not disturb the peaceful shadows

          the images of a nighttime's dreaming briefly coat this world

then they must evaporate with the dew at the end of the dawn

In the time when night lights fade away

          and hope once more can raise our hearts

then we trust there can be no end to these renewable beginnings

In those moments when the world is changing as quickly as the light

          there we sense so strongly the passage of our time

then I see most clearly a path that I should follow

In the precious little time before the awful noise begins again

          I regain any strength that I still retain

For there is no cover I might seek and there is no place that I could hide

In the gracious hour between the dark and the light

          Just before the hoarse cries begin again

there is still time to consider what's to come from what is passed

In the fresh air of a new day when the world is born again

          There can be time to take accounts and sense the larger flow

Instead of rushing randomly once more towards some fuzzy goals