Daybreak Through the Cottage Window


And so it begins: this greige gleam and economy,

this singular, smooth, silent, sweep.
A pearled page turning in a tome of darkness.

Always, it is the inevitable melding I await, liquid
lilac and spun steel puddlings of sea and sky.

This is why I watch, what I need most:
the ephemeral pause at day’s first light,

the circadian nuptial of two solitudes and
hope breathing pillowed silver through a realm

that becomes too loud, too bright, too fast.

Virginia Boudreau