The winging morning First tantalising sounds


The winging morning

First tantalising sounds

Leaving the night

Yawning of small things

Greeting each other

Across desolate branches

I pick myself up

See my image in the water

I clear the cobwebs

Perk myself into listening

A car passes

Silencing everything

Then tunes raise an octave

And the bright morning star

Welcomes the dawn