the clouds of dawn

you've probably experienced the long nights . . .

the lonely walk-around-the-house wondering why and whatever nights . . .

the nights when your thoughts are filled

with everything that is sad

or worrisome

or that needs resolving quickly . . .

lists.

insistent lists!

i get those every so often . . .

and when i do,

i've noticed that i don't like the dark.

i also don't like the artificiality of a light "turned on".

and while i wish for the sun . . .

the sun takes forever to rise

and then arrives far too early . . . .

and without exception,

when the sun rises and

i realize that the day has begun

and i'm unprepared . . .

then

i wish

to be in a simpler place,

in a simpler time . . .

come with me for a moment.

at last came the blessed dawn

and the mist lay like a vasty shining cloud on the place,

but as the sun swam up,

full of power and warmship . . .

"lifting mist"

not to be gainsayed,

the mist came loose all in a piece,

and lifted slow,

till there was a space betwixt its under side and the mere,

where the coots swam,

like bees running about between two boards.

"morning breaks"

then one half of the tree trunks came free,

so that the forest seemed to be mounded up with snow.

it lifted and lifted,

and at last went into the sky,

and failed amid the clouds of dawn.

"a summer place"

then the clouds faded,

and there were only the proper heavens,

blue as bird's eye.

all artwork john daniel neubauer
all italicized text mary webb