Saturday, November 21, 2009

Dawn Emerges

Before the sun is up,
a light goes on in a neighbor's shed.
Chickens cackle, an egg laid?

A warm breath meets cold air.
Fingertips tingling, our pace quickens
to warm the hands.

Grass blades and oak leaves,
rimmed in ice crystals,
glisten in the headlamp's rays.

The hardwood trees,
empty of leaves,
their form laid bare.

A jet streams south,
the horizon appears, splashed in orange.
Dawn emerges, a star's twinkle fades.


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