BEFORE THE DAWN
I know too well the place of waiting
an hour before the dawn.
Waiting for just enough light to walk outside,
to watch the street move and live again.
Staying quiet while others sleep nearby.
Not a sound from the birds, but soon
the first will break the silence, hesitantly.
A moment, then his brother birds will answer.
I read to stem the loneliness.
I’ll write to say I’m here, awake.
Somewhere in the town there will be others
rising now to go to work.
Wait ten more minutes, then start the coffee,
open the fridge for cream.
I know too well the quiet arrival of the dawn.
D.G Peart
Zihuatanejo, 2014
