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Grey Sparrow Journal

Issue 30, July 31, 2017
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Coming Of The Day

The quiet just before dawn

hunkers down in the black oak,

the leaves quiet their talk.

 

The wind for the moment

moves not a branch in tree or bush,

yet it tarries before the quiet gold

lights the edges of the ebon sky,

the morning star reluctantly departs,

the morning dove trills an early song,

the mountain quail rooster-like crows

at the peak of the Dutch gambrel roof,

announcing the coming break of day.

 

It’s time to leave the spirits of the night,

it’s time to leave the dreams of might-have-beens,

it’s time to throw back the coverlet and rise,

it time to rinse last night’s revels from the eyes,

it’s time, almost past time for a first caffeine rush,

it’s time to sip a latte from a steaming mug,

it’s time to warm a cinnamon morning bun,

it’s time to scan the Times and the Guardian,

it’s time to take up the cudgel of the day to be.

 

                                                ―Samuel I. Doctors