During my almost daily predawn stroll in the cool backyard this morning, I watch the slow transition from night into day and find myself slipping back to those years working on the theatrical productions at SHSU, when the magic of it all unfolded right in front of me.
How easy it was to be carried off—to a medieval castle in Richard the Third, a Southern plantation in Finian’s Rainbow, the streets of New York City in Sweet Charity, or a beach resort in Puerto Vallarta in Night of the Iguana—and plenty more besides. While all the while never leaving my hard wooden seat in the Old Main Theater in Huntsville, Texas.
And it’s there, in that quiet light, I realize the scene unfolding in my own backyard isn’t all that different from those stage settings from way back when.
Walking in the back
hush before curtain
waiting in the wings
The sun makes its entrance, stage left
Just enough light for the set to emerge—
blue scrim above,
the darkened stage below
A lone bird takes its cue,
first line of the morning
I’m still here in the shadows—
where are you?
in the house?
A minute later
the lighting warms, intensifies
Yellow ocher and burnt sienna—
painted sheds revealed in slow fade
against the black floor of earth
Dew-coated green of spring grass
glistens under the rising gels
Right on cue, the sky lifts—
bluer, brighter
The Earth turns its silent revolve
A new act begins
And the eyes and heart of this old artist,
both audience and actor,
receive another fresh canvas
© Copywrite J. Michael Boland, March 20, 2026
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