In the Early Hours
Morning’s slow embrace...
Showing her soft face,
Blushed and painted and blended.
Silks pulled ‘cross the sky,
Pastel ripples fly,
Hushed and rushed and splendid.
Opposite the world,
Sun is sinking down,
Quietly and sleepily.
The moon is pulled high,
Her blue smile wide,
Lovely, friendly, but lonely.
(This is an Alouette poem)
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