Poetry

Dayspring

 Only you could merit a name
 that is a dawning
 a promise daily kept
 hope hinting
 slowly reassuring
 yes, I am here
 never rushing, yet insistent
 letting the dark take its rest.
 You let it sigh and set
 while you make yourself known
 calling my attention not to yourself
 but to the trees’ winter branches
 who nevertheless 
 pen their delicate praises
 upon the blue of you.

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