Dawn's the crisp blue line
crossing poisonous pink clouds,
the water-soaked broom
sweeping off the tiredness under the rug,
and the mother's cold, wet palm
brushing away the fever-fueled nightmares
from the night before.

Dawn's the chirp of hues shifting
from suffocating scarlets and weary purples
to sun-kissed whites and breathy blue.

Dawn's the clink
of the glass coffee pitcher
nearly chipping
as it clashes against porcelain cup.

Dear Dawn,
I hope they've told you how wonderful you are!