Sunday, August 29, 2010


The sky yawns wide in the bleary predawn grey,
and a wind tumbles out, showering the earth with scents and nonsense songs
and scattering the last few drops of dew.
Fingers of sunlight comb through the mountain pines
and brush out the trailing wisps of cloud,
while the emerging light dresses everything in confident colors.
Then the egg-yolk sun rises over cinnamon crumb peaks,
and it is time to step out into a brand new day.

Feb 12, 2010

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