A breath
Ripples on the rim of an amber bowl
Water still, reflecting swaying azaleas
–
On the cusp of the breeze a loon calls
Lonely for its mate
Mournful in its low lamentations
–
The curtains rustle
Coffee grows cold
Open windows at a crisp, cool dawn
–
The suns reticent rays
Banishing the stealing rearguard of night
Orange against the green of the pines
