Woke in darkness nightcold outside waiting.
The moon has gone, the sun has yet to call.
I hear there’s starlight buried in the mist
That breathes and sighs and smiles beyond the wall.
Between two moments never noted till
They’re lost and gone, that black dark of night
Becomes a black that’s softer at the core.
The sun has shifted, stretched and discharged light;
Still too little to be ranked or measured,
Just photons dancing on the crisp cold ground,
Showing up the sharp silvered blades of grass
That bend toward what little power is found.
Slow, easing out of shadows, ancient trees
Extend their skeleton twigs; and branches
Lean out into the heatless brightening.
Now, inside the mist a last leaf dances
As then the light creeps in upon the haze,
Presses black and white to subtler pallor
And so the waking sun-wraith warms the
World from monochrome to watercolour.
Time barely marches on before the glow
Has tipped away the watery grey shade,
And light and shadow play upon the land.
And risen o’er the edge of earth is made
A ball of burning fire, red and orange,
Held in a plume of barely moving smoke;
Horizon marking, touching earth and air
And illustrating nature’s masterstroke.
It is the body of that heat and light
That taut and tensed and poised does hold the stage,
Mighty focus for all that lives and breathes
So each with each may heartily engage.
Time takes another step as you heat up
And umber rouge gives way to molten gold.
A gap, a minute breach appears twixt you
And lip of earth as forth you dance so bold,
A nymph behind a line of ancient trees
Uncaught within the corner of mine eye.
If I turn to see you then nothing’s seen,
Only when glanced uncalled do you comply.
You stir your shoulders to the weight of day,
Cast light to hill and vale and wooded knoll,
And with this thin drawn meagre winter warmth
You rouse my spirit and hunt out my soul.