Dawn Rider

D A W N R I D E R

Dressing cold
in the stillness,
working numb fingers,
brain heavy with bessed slumber;
the sweet smell of you
still clinging to the dark,
hurrying quietly,
only wanting
to crawl back beneath the blankets
in order to hold you once again
in my arms.

Mantled heavily
I bend over to kiss
your forehead, eyelids, and mouth,
mumbling beneath our breath
the plans for the day,
and several honied phrases
that contained, nourished,
and replenished
love;
touching fingertips lightly
as I slip out of the room
into the Winter's morn.
Pausing on the porch,
beneath your window,
with the door latching loudly
behind me.

My eyes suddenly clear,
embraced by the briskness,
as I stare into the February sky,
ebon with the profound darkness
just before the dawn.

Wrapping my woolen muffler double red
around my bare neck,
I reflect on what a fly speck
is my life
when it is juxtaposed to the vastness
of that sky.

Later while huddled
in the front seat of my car,
half-listening to the musical static
and the strident whoosh
of my defroster attacking
the ice gremlins on my windshield,
I drift back into your dreams,
and mine;
hearing the girls inquiring
about aliens and UFO's
and God and Love,
and I kiss the four-leafed clover
pinned to my heart,
understanding
how lucky I am to be there
answering their questions.

Glenn Buttkus 1993