II.

I woke late today— at 5 a.m.     
     The house already echoes
with birdsong, the sun already     
     begun her rise. I step out
onto dew-tipped grass,     
     to scents of fresh cut hay,
arch back, meet a mass of cumulus     
     puffs— heavy Marengo grey.
We wait together for sun to strike     
     them stronger, and with delight,
she does. Then they glow, glow,     
     glow bubblegum pink.

When clouds dissipate, dawn
whispers, All is clear, and I retreat
to fill pages. But before I end,
I set an alarm for 4 a.m.