Desert Poetry: The New Dawn

We are but riders of the new dawn.

Slow and languid motion, the rising of the sun.

A different light, from a different time.

A new movement flowering on a dead vine.

 

In the dark night, we sit contemplating murder.

Quietly sipping our coffee, in some obscure Waffle House.

Waiting for something to do, waiting for the dawn.

Reviews

[TJ]

This is great....love the opening line, sucks the reader right in. your use of time and motion is superb, especially in the first stanza, the last line a wonderful metaphor/transition to the last 3 lines. The last 3 lines have so many diferent meanings to me. Keep up the good work.