Up before dawn this morning, I read emails and posts to discussion groups and The Fellowship Room, with tears in my eyes at one point from the grace I saw displayed in my friends. In the quiet of dark, lines and turns of phrase penetrated the window at my back with the coolness of waning night.
COMES THE DAWN
by J. Randal Matheny copyright (c) 2010
Comes the dawn, the stir of wings,
The form of clouds, the growing depth
Of trees within the silhouette.
The silence of the sleeping world
Of men and beasts dies to a day
Birthed from the still and resting dark.
Nears the ruler of the day,
His runners whisper his Parousia,
As swallows chase their airborne prey.
Comes the noise of busy men,
With plans in hand and tedious tasks,
Eyes wide open forget the night.