I was going through old drafts of poems and found this one.
WAITING FOR DAWN ON A CBC
There is a moment
just before dawn,
when you know it is coming,
yet it seems
that it will never come.
The sky is black.
Only a few stars remain.
The ground is white with snow.
An owl hoots once
without response.
Now all stars are gone.
Branches are silhouetted
black against dark blue.
Tufts of grass emerge
from snow.
The first crow should call,
and then another,
as daylight appears.
The owl hoots again
without response.
RGF
Bob Fisher
Independence, MO
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