In Glass-topped Boats

It is dark out, clouds making it the color of pitch as the old saying goes.  I am most always awake and attentive at this hour, ever hopeful for the balm of dawn and ever gifted with it.  Dawn is as precious as hearts or minds or the tides drawn up by the moon, ever there for those gifted with early souls.  A life is changed at first light, one glimpses up continually hopeful, knowing that it comes but always with some doubt as if the gift in the box can be what you had desperately wanted but hesitant still until the wrap is off.  Pitch dark is good wrapping for dawn, it too divine, for dark and dawn are parts of mysteries that we stare up into like crystal oceans turned on their heads and we few in glass-topped boats.  Come Lord Jesus’ dawn, come. 

The gift unwrapped.