Dawn's quiet heals the injuries
of noise, in the plumage of light,
being both woman and bird,
lies restoration: a winged welcome
and vale to the darkness of owl
and bat. Here, dew and river and
ocean are returned, bearing molecules
of mountain and breath of oak -
all reinstated to cloud, to be met
by the alchemy of lead and gold.
I have been witness to this synthesis
of not yet day, no longer night;
the metaphysics of sunrise,
hemmed with meadow clary.
It is more reliable than love,
ageless as a Titan, and each morning
I ask its gentle beacon
to give me back my wonder.
Ekphrastic poem based on this painting by Edward Robert Hughes:
Image of meadow clary: https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:260_Salvia_pratensis_L.jpg