Till Morning Comes

Moonbeams reflect off the water
Like silver shards
shining through the wispy fog.

The coffee has grown cold
but he still takes a swing
from his canteen, feels the bitter
liquid run down his throat.

All of creation has been hushed.
Nothing stirs amid
the firs and oaks surrounding the lake.

2 thoughts on “Till Morning Comes

  1. Love the stanza with the coffee, especially where he takes a swig even though it’s already cold. Great choice of words. “Shards,” “canteen,” “wispy,” “hushed,” not words you see too often. Love it!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *