The birds are already singing when
I stretch out of bed,

light softening the edges of darkness
just enough to see, the world still faded,

finding its way into daytime like a sleepy
child rubbing their eyes.

I watch color bolden hilltops and
spread like golden butter as sun

rises up past their peaks fanning
out through tree lines into valleys,

it’ll kiss the hollows last, later, and
only for the shortest time.

There’s no chill or dew today,
air already thick with the promise of

rain like even the universe is
holding its breath.