daybreak

at first light, when the birds
thrash about on the silver linden
when the city’s fury thunders
in rage and rumbling concrete
and the old bum rummages
trash cans for reasons to breath,
the incandescent god surmounts
the horizon and peeks into the
streaked glass window to tell me
it is time.

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About ky

Poet. Photographer. Writer. Goddess. View all posts by ky

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