Any Morning

A breath of branches
     sway in sunlight.
What is left of yesterday's shade
      lay shattered,
Scattered among pine needles and compost.

Am I some endless sky?
We peopled cities seek joy
      in so many setting suns...
So many gaping flames, only to die.

A breathing of leaves drink in
      morning's bright
Dew replete, a singing light.
Is there nothing left
       but dawn?
Written by Oshinome
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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