this is my morning

hushed…

this is my morning–

after summer night storm,
newly rinsed breeze
still damp with rain
moves the weight of yesterday;
stirs the rooster a little earlier;
tempts the full morning moon
to hang a little longer
in the bluewash sky

above the barnyard.

bowing to the coming sun

a breath below horizon
the sheep rise and trundle

silent soldiers
shuffling sleepily out to pasture
under bluelight lifting,
ahead of the days heat–

this is my morning,

greymist shadows soft and cool.