Winter Sunrise Outside a Café
Near Butte, Montana
A crazed sizzle of blazing bees
in the word EAT. Beyond it,
thousands of stars have faded
like deserted flowers in the thin
light washing up in the distance,
flooding the snowy mountains
bluff by bluff. Moments later,
the sign blinks, winks dark,
and a white-aproned cook—
surfacing in the murky sheen
of the window—leans awhile
like a cut lily . . . staring out
into the famished blankness
he knows he must go home to.
AngelfromMontgomery et al. 
it is all beautiful.
Yes…that lily and a good poem for someone to read who happens to be headed home into the “famished blankness”///
I can picture the cafe, and taste the pancakes. It brings a memory of one Ted and I stopped at in AZ on Rt66