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I never understood the “crack of dawn”
Or that other word: “daybreak”
The mornings I know are perfectly made and calm
There’s no breaking or cracking when my world comes awake
Coffee in hand, I watch Venus and the stars
I listen to crickets and the birds
The wind’s usually calm and I can hear near and far
There’s nothing cracked or broken in the things I’ve heard
Many’s the morning I sit and just listen
I seem to hear better under soft-lit skies
I’ve heard spider webs humming as their drops of dew glisten
Elk bugling in the meadow as the sun begins to rise
I heard a coyote once padding across bare rocks
Long before I saw its lonely silhouette
Enjoyed the sleepy morning talk of hidden quail flocks
Sounds and songs that made me sad for those who slept
And I’ve seen things I’m sure are never seen
By sleepy heads still snoring in their pillows
I’ve watched mountain lakes change from black to blue to green
Spied on rivers dancin’ toe to toe with stream-bank willows
I’ve watched a thousand geese take flight
Across a flaming pink horizon
Read the history of a canyon in pages touched by golden light
Got quite an education while the sun was risin’
I’ve seen cactus on the verge of speech, I swear
Raise their arms in gestures as if to pray
I’ve had my own soul restored more than once out there out there
In the glory of a perfect brand-new day
No, there’s nothing wrong with my mornings, friend
And you shouldn’t fix what isn’t broken my daddy said
So, if I hear you say, “Daybreak” or “crack of dawn” again
I’ll know--- you’re just another sleepy-head
© Mike Moutoux 2007
Used with the author's permission.
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