Dawning Poem by Judith R. Robinson

1

On evenings soft with summer
your innocents dance under
yellow moons. They pant,
simple with pleasure.

They recreate joy
in the flesh that you bestowed:
they leap in fragrant air
twirl in color, sing delight.

In these moments they seem
to soar above the tiger and the lamb.
They glimpse beyond
the blowing stars. They fall to their knees.

They believe in glory.
There may be peace.



2

Other days follow. Strange days.
Strange nights.
Moons dim and blacken.
Seas yearn and rise.
Suns bear down, over-heating
the lands, bleaching
away what lives,
disrupt the ordered song.
Unease creeps in, then covers.
The innocents falter
There is no escape.

Many cry out to you
trusting you will hear.
One who waits
to disappear by morning
wonders at the celebration.