It's quiet and the night creatures have not yet turned over time to those that rule the day. It is the time that the world stops to take a breath before the dawn. The wind has ceased struming it's song, leaving only my heart to hear and feel in places I'd not known before. My every sense, though some are damaged, are strained, waiting for the world to start living again, much like watching a baby to make sure it's breathing. It's unsettling and a part of me seems to go back those millions of years to my primitive ancestors, to taste what they must have felt. It's hard to know if the shiver I feel is from the chilled dampness or the fact that my spirit is so far from the comfort of my normal world. I do not move, until the lone sound of some distant bird breaks the spell and a breeze comes across my face, at the same time exhaling, not realizing I'd been holding it back. Another bird answers the first and I shift, trying to see if the light I think I see is the beginning of dawn, but it is wasted effort for I never see it happen, it's always there before I know it is. As it gets lighter and I can see farther, I use my binoculars to see if she has shown up yet. I know her better than anyone, for we have met and communed like this for many days now, a joy that so many never know. She always shows up at the same time, every day, wearing that soft, cream colored coat, never in a hurry, self possesed and regal. She knows I'm here but doesn't mind for at this distance, I'm not a distraction. She merely glances at me to acknowledge my being here and then ignores me. She comes to her place, sits, and surveys her domain like the queen she is, watching the world for the half hour she has alloted, then glancing at me again, she stands, stretches, and calmly leaves.