The sky is clear and dark,
the air is cool and I am here,
waiting in the garden
for the earth to turn.
Waiting for the light of the sun
to creep across the oceans,
over the farms and the fields
and through the buildings of this city,
waiting for it to turn the clouds pink
and fill the tree above me
with golden light.
I know of no other thing
that I can rely on as much
as the turning of the world.
