Milk in the Library for Want of Open Sky in the Time before Dawn where Dark Things yet Respire
The pines glow in the fireside haze
Of little lonely houses amidst the dark,
Snow-covered mountains.
A ghost-cat wanders somewhere
On the trail to the North
Up away towards the ridge
And the coffee saturates the air
As water pours over into the mug--
Spirit for earthy track-finders.
With a little effort, I find my
Eyes remain open long enough
To see the dawn-patterns emerge:
The glow of the snow on the trees;
Check coffee, pour more;
Wait, wonder; write a bit;
The Sun is in the wolf's belly--
His energy low, sun-sick brute--
And with patience I see him move
From his hidden den to his
Short path in the South,
Where the mountains conceal
His bristling, thinning fur.
The sky opens up soon,
Tomorrow and next morrow.
Are you ready? No.
Are you? Not at all.
Well, then the time must be right.