Advent
Steven Nelson © 1999

Whispering dawn
Crystalline glinting morning
grass crackling footfall
breath stabbing
ahead of my every step
skin chill-bitten
still drowsing thoughts
not whole formations
feeling
the sunless advent
of day
Walks glazed
scattered lines on slate
pointing to each other
confusing the way
for the captive eye
Frozen dust
laying on unshaken branches
showing where no hand
has gripped the rail
no wheel
has run the path
Touch leaves accusation
forensic powder
telling tales
He was here....
She went this way....
The hand was small....
The cat was out...
All the world must sleep
until the urgent day can wait no more
- this is man's nature's gift
to still, early morning
Heat plumes silent
billow from vent stacks
each frosted roof
sighing
in it's sleep
Lone starling slashes the dawnlit sky
so cold and silent
that wings thrum
from a hundred feet away
Dawn colors
sky segue
amber feeding white
gray gives to silver blue
to gray again
Ice motes sparkle
suspended
intermittent
tiny scintillescent reflections
of the coming sun