There’s a time before the dawn
where light becomes a promise.
A certainty that in moments
the world will shift slightly on its axis,
and light will spill across the landscape.
In those few minutes,
as the hunted and the hunting night-animals
scuttle, slink and swoosh their ways home,
the breeze murmurs softly of the coming day
gently warning you of the heat, the rain, the bluster on their way.
If you stand there quietly in the dark pre-dawn…
sniffing the wind, straining your eyes against the darkness
you can know…
that in moments
the looming black shapes surrounding you
will resolve into the familiar things that make your home.
That in seconds, the light will begin
to wash away the darkness…
that direction will be found,
that warmth will be provided,
that new possibility will arise.