while the night-things still sing
watch the grey-brown doe bound
from edge of yard
as mist yet glides upon reflections
turn creaking spigot and wait
for gurgling halting water to reach
mouth of hose and shower herbs
even before the sun crests the mountains
oh, to arise in those fragile moments
when only humans are silent
arise, my soul, and sing with the dawn
join in with chirruping chorus
allow feet the lightness to leap
across dewy field as the doe
until the Sun draws out your wings
then, soar
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