A Poem on the Website of
the Red Dirt Writers Society

by Beth Stephenson (Sep 2009)

Like the moment when an orchestra ceases tuning
But has not begun to play,
There is a moment between the morning’s first red glance
And the well-defined new day.
When the night-birds, weary and hopeless hush their crooning
Calling mankind to pray
When the breeze staggers breathless at nighttime’s tolerance
Of violent, evil ways.

The owl’s stunned dumb when he learns ‘Who, who will not wake?’
‘Who, who will not rise today?’
And the patient sun waits for the stars who watched the night
To fully veil their gaze
And the beasts and fowls and insects tremble as they wait
As the shadows gather shape
Lingering dreams edge off as reality alights
And quiet sleep slips away.

But daylight grows
Stomachs grumble
Humans tumble
From dim repose

Cats stretch and curl from their prowl
And the breeze And the owl
Relinquish the night.

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Revised October 2009.