Movement.
Dawn hangs on the trees, force slivers floorward,
slips into sleep\'s acres,
turns shade to tailgates of light over which rays
snipe at quiescence
before sunrise presence moves 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 sleepy whispers for proactive reality
when shaken mind rouses
to sense Heaven\'s infinity ticking away rest- time
making the richer
seconds remaining for flight\'s drowsy treasure as
night hooks day to my use.