The stars flicker and fade
as I walk into the empty field.
The moon is quietly sinking,
it’s time for night to yield.

Tall weeds grasp at my jeans,
desperate to have me sit with them.
But I have a different place in mind;
where I can feel the earth’s slow spin.

The dew soaks into my pants.
It’s almost like wading into a river.
A cool wind kisses my face;
I hug myself and shiver.

The grasshoppers and cicadas
quiet their music as I approach.
Only the rustle of grass surrounds me.
By the creek, a brave toad croaks.

Reaching my spot, I plop down,
turning to the horizon.
I’ve made it just in time.
The sun has not yet risen.

Damp clothes, bug bites, and clinging burrs
are a paltry price to pay
to gaze into the rainbow sky
and watch the birth of a new day.