Many of you have probably been camped in a high mountain meadow and awaked to the stars shining brightly overhead. While still snuggled in your warm blankets, you have listened to the mysterious noises of the night as the eastern sky begins to show light. You hold your breath and hear the distant reassuring tinkle of the horse bells. Then you know that God is close by and everything is all right with your world.
SYMPHONY OF THE DAWN
Ode to an old camp cook by Vern Hopkins
The camp in sleeping silence lay
Stars fading one by one
All nature breathlessly awaits
As the Master raises his baton
The symphony of the wild begins
Darkness melting into light
The old man wakes and listens
To a night bird taking flight
Hear the horses in the meadow
The thump of hoof on turf
Jingle of a hobble chain
As day begins its birth
Music of the horse bells
Ring their haunting song
Morning weaves its magic
Of this hour before dawn
He rolls back nice warm blankets
Weathered hat upon his head
Stretching out his creaky bones
He rises from his bed
The crackling of the morning fire
Squirrel scolding from a pine
High above a raven’s call
Adds melody and rhyme
The shadows hold a big-eyed doe
With baby hidden near
Searching out with ear and nose
To cast aside her fear
With time-worn hands the old man
Kneads the biscuit dough
Fingers stiff and crooked
They sound their tremolo
As the sleeping camp awakens
The sonata fades away
Lays down its reeds and cymbals
As night gives up its stay
The old man smiles knowing
Although the music’s gone
Tomorrow will bring another
Symphony of the dawn
Reader Comments(0)