Wet Dog Day

It is a dark and dampy, misty morning
A smelly wet dog, flea bitten day
Thunder cracker-boomer-banger
Rumble an' grumbly sort of start
Snuggle buggle under quilts an' covers
Hide your head an' roll right over day
A day for fires burnin' slow like,
Woodstoves cherry reddish kinda morn.

Awaiting the Dawn

Those who love the dawn rise up early
Quietly slipping out of bed to dress quickly
Stepping down old stairs one by one
That one spot, comfortable and warm
Waits for us, inviting us to sit and watch
The spectacle of night giving way to day.
Sometimes our hands grip mug or china cup
Full of coffee, tea, warming hands and body
As the beginning of a new day warms the earth.
It is dark just now, still a few stars in the night sky
Yet soon, very soon the eastern sky will shimmer
Just hints of pink at first, then reds, oranges will filter in
And creation will replay that first day
When God stepped out into the darkness, looked around
Threw out a multitude of suns that rolled through the Heavens
Bumping and careening through creation, finding just the spot
Settling in and beginning to spin, throwing off sparks
Warming and glowing, bringing life and waiting, waiting
Till God, that Master Painter grins, lifts hand to a canvas of nothing
And speaks soft and low, not wanting to take all the glory
Gently, He spins that big old ball of gasses we await
"Let there be light."  And it was so.

So, we sit and wait, patiently.
Warm in the darkness, content,
For the first glimpse of morning on the horizon
For the first glimpse of dawn.