Rosy-fingered Dawn

This morning I called out to Homer

in my early morning slumber,

watery eyed wonder:

“She was lilac at first,

then she yawned with golden thirst.

Clouds stretched lazily

reflected below in glistening dew.

Rooftops bowed in reverence

to shining streaks of frankincense.

And Mother Earth, how she basked

in Dawn’s rose and blue…

Why, I just had to tell you.”

 

 

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