I love a sugar-spun dawn,
earth unable to ignore the sky.
It’s that moment when a thought
makes its mark. Opens the skin.
It’s self-explanatory, and simple
as following a straight line road.
It’s a singed dry leaf, an edged ghost
fringe, foreign to its landscape,
or a new thought that’s lying in wait
right around the corner, where
dawn chisels away your chains.
for Sunday Whirl #494 and #APoemADay on Twitter © Misky 2021
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