morning light wet with meaning
winks over the lonely horizon
in boxer shorts alone in a hotel room
blurred from both reading and dreams
faded denim of the sky unraveled
by sudden threads of cirrus clouds
false fire alarm in the early morning
raspy rough sleep before and after
white steeple erupting from a treeline
barely beyond the perimeter road
slow stretches and incantations
awareness of what is to be done
the world comes in a rush at the window
flies in on a shard of late spring light
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