It’s been weeks since
I willingly watched dawn
slowly scale the limits of this world
yet today I find a cooler air
licks at my calves
as I sit back
and see what magic may unfold.
The monochrome cityscape
rises tall and cold
behind this palm, acacia green,
birdsong simmers
in the trees,
lines rehearsed
a thousand times:
“I’m sorry that I hurt you so much!”
“Look at me. “Look at me.”
“Come!”
And so the narcissus glow
wakes up a sky that’s pale
as too-washed sheets,
it spreads like buttter
in the space
between
skyscrapers
while others are gilded by the light,
basking in the newborn sun.
A bright day shades
in its frame with mountain-fringe,
gently sketched soft pencil grey
beneath a morning cappuccino froth of cloud.
