A new, old poem, that has even more meaning, for me, now

SONG

Just before dawn,

                              the dense, damp

Morning crept, chilly

                                and comforting

Into our window, waiting

                                      for the wistful sun.

The trees, terrible innocence,

                                               gathered trembling starlight,

Lined it along limbs

                               furrowed with larks,

Or maybe mockingbirds,

                                       heralding morning.

Breathing the slow and silky light,

                                                       the slumbering fields

Awaken, garnished and gleaming,

                                                        in dew’s last glow.

From the window, watching

                                             the world’s new song,

We learn by listening

                                  to the lovely blue

Light, blue mountains murmuring,

                                                      and meandering through

Our love’s dreamings and doings,

                                                       our destinies all entwined.

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