song of the early rise

the early light sings

a silver prelude

to morning,

the crepuscular breath

before the sun calls reveille.

the gift of the clock's turn back

is this hour:

a ground littered

with starfall;

mist pouring off the river

like an exhale;

a tree that looks ready

for the ball.

grass beneath my rubber soles

goes crunch – stomp – crunch

as I pant dragon’s breath

into the untouched quiet.

the sun will come

like trumpets,

and beneath its power,

all this glitter will vanish

like breath in a brisk morning.

you won’t believe me

when I tell you:

I danced on diamonds

before you woke up.