The dark climb before dawn
to catch the first light
before it grows common.
Windows rolled down
to un-spelled anagrams
all over night’s loose gown.
Memory of an early downpour
In the mind’s garden, rain’s
lucent sweat become gems.
The skin keens to another solitude
suspected nearby in a forest
born of fable.
Twin Tapeta Lucida orbs
stare then shy off
in a sparkle of paws.
On the crest of the hill
between huddle and shove
whole families swagger
in pyrotechnics of chatter
and silence expecting
the reward of a sunrise.
A boy turns big-eyed
from the irresolute dawn
veiled in scraps of mist
enticed by another vigil for
another luminous recompense
that will appear just as quietly.
