I hear a first whistle of a bird
just before the dance of dawn.
And dew drips down
The cat tongued blades of
a softening sprawling lawn
Humming bread truck in the distance
makes its way toward a loading dock
behind a humble store bakery
with a donut for a wall clock
Tangent to the arc of a hesitant sun rising,
the air begins to eddy,
swirling through the porch door screen,
hissing, java ready, steady
There is a subtlety in the rising chorus
of kisses between the new spring leaves…
waking the budding flowered branches
whispering harmoniously on a breeze
Turning dreams stroke the linen…
white and twisted all about
and through it, our skin
slight shiver within
by this morning, we are bound
You stir gently, to again drift off
And I am so in love…
This suburban morning aviary,
Persistent cooing of a dove
Sunlight ripens from cerulean to rouge
And curls its streams all over you
and the morning murmurs sleepily,
as a new day rinses off the dew
Another morning’s awoken by night, which
shepherds our hearts to slumber.
This eternal reprise of celestial cycles
Love arrives to allay the night
in dawns awaiting wonder.
