The Beacon of Hope


          Softly the beacon’s horn cries out in the cold wintry night. She cries to the lonely old cowboy as he rides with the herd. Her calls are heard by a midnight trucker pulling the high pass; and to the worried watchman, on the wall as he goes in harm’s way. Calling us homeward, safe from the storm; calling us homeward to peace, rest and love.

     Each holds in common; although alone in the night; that empty feeling of being lost somewhere out of time. For surely God made a home for the lonely, somewhere on this earth, a place with warming fires, hot meals, and warmer hearts. It is said ‘No Man is an Island’ but the empty night is the great leveler of men.

     She stands there calling, this ‘Lady of Light’ equally alone; wanting nothing more than to have her man home. She only wants to have someone love her; to accept her love in return, for this beacon of hope inside us one and all is but another name for the beacon of love

~ © 2003/2010 – David L. Griffith ~
For My Special Lady

If you enjoyed tales spun on this page please use the bar below to share it with your friends who also might enjoy other poetry written by the cowboy night writer.

E-MAIL THIS LINK
Enter recipient's e-mail:

Mail To The Cowboy

NEXT      BACK      HOME

"There is no cure for birth and death save to enjoy the interval."

PalletMaster's Workshop®.

                  AWARD