Not even a voice, merely words on a page, a welcome, a smile, waiting as I lift my eyes From slumber, kicking out the last of my dreams, only to find that they do not end
Orange sherbet skies paint my windows above yawning tree lines at the end of a dirt road Persimmon outlined shadows dance about my walls inviting me to look
I grab my cup, hot but needed, step into my shoes passing through to morning, taking a sip… I find more beauty than my eyes have seen, while birds flit from branch to branch
The air is cool, unusual but so very pleasant, heated days form in my memories of yesterday, when cool springs were no match for the flamed heavens… yet perfection now touches my skin
And I see, before me not a morning, not a brilliant sunrise but you…your words, your touch, finding me at a distance, telling me that this day is ours, beyond horizons… East to west and back again…for the beauty of my day is always you