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bedded down for the night,
and the campfire,
glowing low and dim,
the stars bright over head.

small desert creatures,
scrambling for food,
a distant owl,

a pale light,
on the Eastern horizon,
presages the false dawn.

a shifting of clothes,
in the tent,
as an early riser,
gets up to make some coffee.

a cool breeze wends its way,
into the tent,
as the flap is opened,
the others,
still in there,
shiver from the sudden cold air,
and wiggle down,
into their blankets and sleeping bags,
as the one who got up,
to make coffee exits the tent.

the deep arroyo,
a few feet away,
from the camp,
its bottom,
deep and dark,
in the night,
blistering hot,
during the day.

The Morning Star twinkles,
just over there.

If you look,
careful like,
you can see planet Mercury,
peeking above the horizon,
and just over there,
dimly against the brilliant backdrop,
of the Milky Way,
is distant Saturn and Neptune.

After a short while,
the sun rises,
and the new day begins,
the rest get up,
and someone cooks breakfast,
and their journey,
continues on.

Categories Poetry, happy


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