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fine, fetching sun

there is nothing so simple
and sure as morning.

when Space’s clarity is hazed
in dreaded daylight –
when all of us rise, beast or
man – life disrespects the
nocturnal. they are the scavengers,
forsaken in the endless ruination
of sleeplessness.

it is morning
that melts the Damp of
night into clouds rising
cumbersome from the black soil-
shade for later for those
downwind, daybreak
as the great blanket is
rolled out.

there is peace in forests
at dawn. air is audible silence.
cougar stretches playfully
while the fat gray hare sips
serenely – its long ears laid
softly against its back. the hawk
preens his brilliant down in
ear shot of the field mouse, happily
twisting his minuscule mustache.

there is peace in a home, and in
the sky when our faces again
turn away from the empty
Black and into the watchful gaze
of our fine, fetching sun.


One thought on “fine, fetching sun

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