by Jim Cobabe
The hour of dawn my rest I broke too soon,
too soon the ever faithful sunrise failed.
Stormy weather ruled this day ’til noon,
though on other daybreaks sunny hope I hailed.
Through long and dreary winter days I bide,
and though I long to sleep in bed, depressed
beneath warm flood of down I seek to hide,
duty to my job remains impressed.
The daffodils, their blooms all blasted bleak,
the freezing from their color wresting joy.
Unheard the trickle of the sun-warmed creek,
the plaything of dark morning’s little toy.
In unrequited love I wait, so chaste, so true,
standing vigil oh so hopeless! oh so blue!