Waiting For the Light

It's quiet as he rises, Makes his way to the kitchen, Builds a pot of coffee, In the dark before the morn. Stands on the back porch, Looks upon his Cowboy Kingdom, And savors the perfect Stillness As a brand new day is born. He moves out to the corral, To his throne upon the top rail, Seats himself to where He can look off towards the east. He contemplates the North Star, Circled by the big dipper, Cowboy clock, keeping track While all the world's asleep He can see the shapes of cattle, In the tallgrass of the pasture, A sliver of a moon Casting shadows on the ground. Hears the nightbird call, As the wind begins to stir, And the soft talking of horses As they begin to move around. He'll watch the stars awhile, Pick out the constellations, Wonders what it's like To ride the Milky Way. And bear a silent witness, To this solitary moment, Say a thankful prayer As the East begins to gray. Streaks of light are moving, Dancing bright across the sky, He feels a little sadness At the dimming of the stars. There's Something holy in the darkness, That reveals a sacred promise, That binds us to the earth, And reminds us who we are. His cup of coffee finished, He slides down from the top rail, Feels fortunate and privileged To be part of the dawn. He smiles into the fading night And walks back to the cabin, Without a doubt he knows This is just where he belongs. It's the best part of the day, Sitting in the darkness, Knowing in your heart That all is right. The best part of the day, Sitting in the darkness, Waiting for the morning And the light. Copyright © Debra Coppinger Hill and G. Casey Allen