The winter sun had drifted below the horizon,
slightly earlier than days before,
the northern pole of our home tilting away,
this time during the year.
The night had blanketed the out of doors,
leaving only artificial lights to accent ways,
to gather creatures of the night, in wonder,
of the curious light.
It is raining now-
There is a quiet amidst as birds sleep in,
not anxious to wet their coats,
under clouds of gray,
even plants hesitant to stir.
All is the same-
The motion of land under skies of gray,
will move through another day,
regardless of anything that comes in way,
all life, everywhere, finding game.
And yet, we perceive-
Something more that is there,
just beyond our view,
waiting, wanting, and hope and long,
and do and are strong,
that one day, one day … we believe.
And while yes,
we smile and breathe,
birds open eyes,
one steps into the air,
Morning is here-