The moon wanes, the day dawns

Something about the full moon

Waning, its dignity, as it

Rests on the morning sky.

Faint detail picked out

Over the trees, the waking

Cries of the birds.

It's early, moon still

High in the west

Tumbling aspiration for the

Day ricochet about still.

The grey of a day lived,

Perhaps suffered, still before

Right now the day is

Pregnant with possibility,

Sun on my back and

Lusty crows croaking.

Here is something to

Hold onto, amidst the

Senseless noise

The bother,

Some quiet, some reflection

WIth non here.

A lttle spot of bliss

Slow expanding

To create

A world.