Windows

As prompted by Poets &Writers. An Aubade, a poem about dawn.


 
Windows

The night was deep and
functional. We rested,
intertwined and separate
as heat or cold dictated.

Completely unaware of the
many paths shadows took,
as breaths grew still - 
while dew formed, then fled.

Light stretched quietly 
as the sun yawned into 
the morning and the earth 
smiled a sleepy hello.

Prisms flashed as dimness
fled, as lengthening shades 
danced unnoticed through 
hair, on faces, arms and feet.

The growing brightness 
brought sounds of morning,
gentle shifting and waning
recollections of dreams.

Now inner clocks kick against
avoidance, focuses shift
to the current state. Eyes
open to welcome what dawns.

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