the mist still lingers on the lawn:
the shortening shade, like Avalon,
seeks wisps of cloud to linger on
but soon surrenders, and is gone.
the world, by inches, cracks its eyes:
and in the place of lullabies
begins to sound the hue and cry,
its hustle-bustle of disguise.
the sweet and tender touch of light
begins the slow ascent of sight
and sends to shadows, warm and bright,
the last reminders of the night.
again, I hear the sigh
of breathing, gentle and nearby,
and thank the earth and sea and sky
for life and love and you and I.
05 JAN 2017