Drowsy Treasure.
Dawn hangs on the trees, light slivers floorward,
slips into sleep\'s acres,
turns shade to tailgates of force over which rays
snipe at quiescence
before sunrise leaps in to move bleary dreamers
to wide-away doers.
Day breaks to bathe passive eyes with forewarning
for blindness precedes
flashes of conscious surrender to sight as inertia\'s
sweet stupor
casts veils around seeing but breath catches gasps
when still becomes movement.
Ears mistake breezy whispers for proactive reality
when shaken sense rouses
to feel heaven\'s infinity ticking away rested hours,
making the richer
seconds remaining for flight\'s drowsy treasure as
time hooks day to its use.