While Night Abates

You find it hard to believe

Your spirit is beautiful

Of Hibiscus and spearmint

The headwinds of an

effortless ply of time, a lovely

soul who washes over me

Like rain in August like the

Horizon in Silhouette of

a Romanesque dawn

Like the fingers of spring

in an ambush of nightfall

Calloused in the soft acre

Of its touch, on an awakening

Both Immediate and clear in

mornings canvassed by the

iris mauve of this desert,

Like a shoreline Motioning me

to a whit of flight

A carrier of sunlight in

the soft loss of time —

© K. James Ribble

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