Dawn

Slept under the dusty cloud
Of the shroud
Same fragrance of the night before

And still in the amorous
Fixation of letters
A rudiment of adoration

Left hands of passion
Soft and melted
Touched by petals sun

Pastels notes of spring,
Tremulous moments of thing
Delicate yielding dawn

Yellow over slow green
Shine over oblique
Glass fraction of freshcutgrass

Hands held waiting for the bus
Turned broken and giving
Process of cyclic living