Dawn
The sky has wiped its slate,
Obscure but almost white,
With Dawn emerging coyly,
Casting her soft light
Upon the gracious charm
Of Nature in full view,
Calling it so vibrantly,
Tenderly and true.
Soon, ere the rising sun,
Exacting but sublime,
Must take full measure of
The brevity of Time,
Dawn gracefully advances
With certainty reborn,
Straight up the traveled path
Of Time to meet the Morn.
And like the glib recital
Of an all-too-famous rhyme,
She soon returns but softly
And daintily in time.
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