Early in Morning
An Eight Line Stanza Ballade ababbcbC with envoi bdbC
Early in morning, before the first light
we walk to the bus stop, my daughter and I.
Dark silhouettes sway as last gusts of night
murmur though spruce boughs, a chorus of sighs.
The voice of the trees sings, like years rushing by
lyrics of longing and hope and regret.
Beautiful, set in a cold winter sky
are stars, distant dreams among dark silhouettes.
Ridges of snow linger, luminous white
on stretches of asphalt that tires have swept dry.
Headlights loom past, shining harshly and bright -
glare out of darkness, assail the night eye.
In backwash, an eddy of snow spirals high
then sinks back to earth in a brief pirouette.
Early in morning, my thoughts spiral, fly
to Stars, distant dreams among dark silhouettes
We wait for the school bus, where day is not quite
ready to live, night not ready to die
standing in dusk in the wind, where the sight
struggles with shapes that won't quite clarify.
An hour before sunrise, we two occupy
a place where the shape of the day isn't yet
out of the wind, before forms reify
as Stars distant dreams among dark silhouettes
Early in morning, we wait she and I
in moments together, I'll never forget
I reach, touch her arm, and I whisper goodbye
to my star, distant dream among dark silhouettes.
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