A/N: The first in a series of poems for dawn, morning, noon, dusk, and night.
Disclaimer: I’m not a morning person but POETIC LICENSE makes me master of all. Muahahaha.
First is the dawn dark
soft and heavy like a blanket
clinging to the skin of the rotating earth
just one step ahead of the coming light.
Second is the bird song
tearing at the woolly darkness
sensing the sun to be yet underground
it is the voice of life impatient to be stirring.
Third are the shreds of light
pouring in from the rent in the night
at first drops that stain the eastern edge,
then a sudden deluge that floods the thirsty sky.
Fourth is me, unwillingly dragged from the cusp of sleep.
(Originally written: March 19, 2012)