Early


dawn

shadows
in banked snow
under the streetlamp
       ..     inky night beyond,
alone, which is good, but only
when you’re near, asleep
beneath covers the shape 
of your familiar slopes
rising, falling, your breath
lifting the bed’s rumpled plain
as day comes and Homer’s
rosy-fingered dawn
routs night
again

Jim Culleny
1/20/17

 

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