Words come to me
in the dark,
when the sun
is just a promise.
Are they the dreams
i don't remember
sneaking up to
the horizon?
Like the glow
that grows above
the eastern hills
and all the stars
hide from the furnace
of the one that warms us,
but keeps us at the end
of gravity's leash?
I don't know.
The vapor trails
chase the tails
of the days first flights
across the sky.
The gulls wake up,
take up their perches
on the street lights
dimming out.
Begin their search
to break their fast,
their cries announce
it's here, I've found it.
And if I pay attention,
I find something too,
before the hiss
of traffic on the bridge
and what all I need
to do today takes over
and reverie is replaced
by practicality and light.
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