And Still Another: a alba or aubade

Before the first ray of morning sun comes
over the muttering lips of the sleeping world
(like the last soft warm breath of a restful sleep
is released from the tight grasp of that little death)

and there are not yet schedules to be met,
children to be shuffled off sullenly to school,
arrangements to be made, broken and remade,
the drudgery of household chores still untackled,

I listen in that dark and peaceful lull
to the gentle sound of her breathing next to me,
warm and serene under the sheets and blankets,
cocooned like a butterfly, just dreaming of flight.

31 MAR 2004

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