Inspector of the Dawn

It is a strange world, dawn.

You may find yourself alone

with your God, the old, and the

young. Very likely a bird.

An old one out hobbling past on a cane,

a small dog trotting from bush to bush,

sniffing a pile of leaves,

jumping back, startled at a leaf.

The new-born wailing from its crib

until a breast fills its mouth.

Other than that, there is only

you and God, alone with your

thoughts about each other

in the mystery of awareness

at the new beginning.

The long stretch of time

between you and your essence.

Nothing else but the chatter

of the squirrel in the branches,

the crow calling out its

previous names.