Just an infinitesimal trace of light there
Like a candle grown dim at the foot of the stair,
Just the whisper soft motions of long, long ago
That have dwindled away in the candles’ soft glow.
Just the dawn calling quietly out for the sun
As the evening drifts off while the morning is spun
Into deep sacred moments of what it’s to be
When the sun clambers silently up from the sea.
Though the waves tumble tiredly up to the shore
The silk sand’s mirrored gold is dawn’s half open door
That beckons a while to the cascading morn
As the Northerly breezes rise up and are born.
The world turns again with a stretch and a scratch
There are dreams of escape, much too many to catch,
There are whispers so deep that they seldom arise
They just call to my soul as they call to the skies…