Morning rises pink through the window.
A lone warbler tells stories
Of fragrant wild grass just yonder.
Clusters of red seeds
Hang still in the pepper tree
Aglow with anticipation:
The sun is coming.
Warmth to forget a cold night
Of howling winds
And screeching nags;
Heat for the Med to reach the sky
With caring hazy fingers
And tease a smile;
Glare for beautiful lies to stand
Without shame in blinding light,
For wishes to fall off the Morning Star,
For naked truth to shiver on her knees.