I don’t know what time the sun rose,
just ran to watch
color stroke the first far hills,
then glide across the mountains with the birds,
touching peaks, one by one,
even the flat one, darkest of all,
filling deepest shadows in the cliffs,
warming my chilled heart,
then flow across the meadows like melting snow,
while clouds fill with light,
lift to float in deepest blue,
and the ghost trees
wrapped in soft gray feathers
begin to glow,
and coyote sings his dawn song
while I turn all around on my high hill,
see sunrise rim me round with gold,
watch the world wake
to the promise
of a new day.


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