SPILLED-INK SHADOWS
His closed eyes shuttered to the world
within the flickering screen of night
encumbered by his own decree
he paid no heed to passing time.
The cuckoo struck the hour too soon
and as the sunrise chorus shrilled
the many tunes of unknown songs
the darting trout sent ripples wide.
He rose to greet the new born day
where love was spun in cobwebs silk
that hung between the stooping trees
in spilled-ink shadows dark embrace.
The key transported in his mind
gave passage to a rising smile
in tenancy within his eyes
he drank the golden rays of sun.