, , , , , , , , , ,

how sweet
the moment
when morning awakes
and rolls from her bed
in the dark
sweated and thirsty
for one more
lost to the memory
of destinies
recalling her touch
of linen to lace
from a place
by the window
in blessing she comes
by way of the wonder
where dew
paints the dawn
where light
shines her love
on the sun

. . .