Voice of Morning
of longing,
of all love—
certitude, solitude, solipsism—
a fixture,
a fissure,
voice of mourning—
all love, I’ve made you blue
for the sound of insects,
the wisp of spring’s dandelions at dawn
bathed in more than light
but all love and the major blue
of the sky.
shaken and poured by Scott-san at 11:36 PM
