Awaiting the Dawn

Somehow word got out…
He was back at his place off the ridge
and knew more than he did when he left,
but that didn’t make it any easier.
So they came down the road
and called for him, a bit before five.
They were pretty adamant;
yet he only stirred
and wouldn’t leave his warm bed.
The pre-dawn air was too cold,
and the furnace was still sleeping.
That restless dreamer awoke at first light,
low golden lines to the east of Cooke’s Peak,
and sensed that the time would be near
to sing with others under the stars
and pray-in a new dawn.