Kit Kelen #907 - in 5° of morning

907

in 5° of morning 
 

through trees

we call our smoke

each to an edge

far misted

and in a glory

first thing lit

no sun to stand in yet

creek's trickle

of skies days away

then it's on

up in high branches

tame

and paddock at a time

day calls

hazy naked

cold birds graze

simply shafted

we arrive

it's only me to see

not even the blue

forever up

come cloudless to all here

tracks come to us

go on

and all of it rings silently

as the simple truth

I am