An October dawn seen from my breakfast table.
Since the beginning of April I have been writing, instead of a diary entry, something that vaguely (sometimes more closely) resembles a poem. This is one about a dawn I wrote a few days ago.
The precious Indian summer days
slipped away under cover of a near full moon night
leaving behind a gray morning
without
the peach, orange, tangerine dawn
clouds
of my last few breakfasts.
